


the dreams you left behind

by xxCat1989xx



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hospitals, Implied Suicide Attempt, M/M, Non-Explicit, Pining, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 18:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6250096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxCat1989xx/pseuds/xxCat1989xx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Louis returns from a week-long guest spot a US chat show to an empty flat and a ‘Dear John’ letter from Harry, life as he knows it changes completely. Fast-forward two years and Louis has taken to hiding away in a tiny village in the English countryside where he isn’t known as Louis Tomlinson, ex-boybander, and has managed to live a relatively quiet life. That is until Liam, Zayn and Niall come to see him and he remembers everything he has tried to forget.</p><p>When he reads of Harry’s Christmas engagement in the papers, he does the only thing he knows to mask his sorrow; drinks so much he ends up in hospital. Cue visiting family and a return to London, where he learns not everything is as it seems, the mistakes of the past can be forgiven and that maybe he might get his happy ending after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the dreams you left behind

**Author's Note:**

> FOR 1D BIG BANG ROUND FOUR
> 
> This is for Claudia who created my [awesome fan art](http://imageshack.com/a/img924/7878/BwDNcT.jpg). Honestly, love, if it weren't for the fact that you were relying on me as much as I was relying on you I probably would've pulled out at Christmas. Thank you for answering my many emails (sorry if I got annoying ;P)
> 
> Also, to my wonderful, patient boyfriend, Phil. He has beta'd this for me, despite not being a One Direction fan (at all). He put up with late nights on the laptop, long weekends sitting watching me type and coaching me through to the end.
> 
> Anyhow, I am getting soppy. Onto the main attraction...
> 
> Thanks,
> 
> Cat x

_Back then…_

All Louis had wanted when he got home from a week long guest spot on some US talk show was a long, hot bath and a nice cuddle on the sofa.

After spending a week in a fairly average hotel in the back-end of nowhere on his own and with limited free time, his patience was running thin. It had taken half an hour to navigate his way out of Heathrow Airport, even with Alberto pushing them through the crowds. He was getting sick of being screamed and cried at, and his face ached from the fake smile he was forced to wear in public when he was just. So. Tired.

Don’t get him wrong; he appreciated every single thing the fans had done for them. From voting for them week in and week out on the X Factor all the way back then, to supporting them through break-ups and rumours, and then Zayn leaving the band earlier in the year. The support and love of the fans had been unwavering. It still made a lump form in his throat even now.

But he wanted a cuddle, and maybe a snog or two from his boyfriend. Said boyfriend would be waiting for him at home. Dinner would be cooked and waiting on the table. A bottle of wine open in the fridge. Or so he had thought.

When Louis opened the door of their apartment he had known something was off. It felt cold and sterile. It always did when it had been empty for a while, which made no sense as he was the only one who had been away.

He walked slowly through the rooms in the apartment. In the kitchen there were no mugs leaving rings on the worktops. He checked the fridge and it was empty –like they had anticipated not being here and threw out all the perishables. The floor squeaked as his shoes caught on the clean tiles. The surfaces were sparkling; Louis was fairly certain he’d be able to see his reflection if he leaned over the top.

“Harry?” Louis called out, hoping to hear the usually mumbled curses as Harry dropped whatever it was he was holding to run to greet him at the door, delighted smile on his face. Getting no response Louis walked further into the apartment and poked his head into each room, heading towards the bedroom, phone at the ready just in case he needed to call someone in a hurry.

He got to the bedroom and pushed the door open. The bedroom was spotless. Bed made, clothes all moved from the pile that was normally on the back of the chair. His bedside table was neat and tidy and Harry’s side was wiped clean. Only when he got closer to the bed did he see the white envelope placed on top of the equally white bed covers.

He picked it up and turned it over. All it said on the front was ‘Louis’ in Harry’s blocky handwriting. Louis flipped the lip and pulled out sheets and sheets of notebook paper. It was the same paper as the pages of Harry’s journal; brown and lined with cats drawn in the corner. It had been a novelty gift from Niall the previous Christmas.

Louis skimmed the pages. ‘ _I’m sorry but I can’t do this anymore_ ’ jumped out at him. His heart leapt into his throat and the hair on his arms stood on end. Scrunching the papers in his hands Louis darted to their walk-in closet to find loose hangers on Harry’s side and all the drawers had been emptied. He ran back through the rooms, muttering “no no no” under his breath and checked the bathroom (only one toothbrush) and the living room (only Louis’ family photos) but all trace of Harry had been cleared out.

All the blood in his body ran cold and his stomach started to convulse. He only just made it to the toilet before he threw up everything he had eaten that day. Wiping his mouth, he leaned back against the edge of the bath and pulled the papers to his chest to read through the letter properly.

Tears streamed down his face as he read all the stuff Harry had been feeling for what must have been the entirety of their relationship; about how he never been happier when they had finally got together but how disappointed he was that they had been made to keep it quiet from practically everyone but the other boys and their immediate families. About how even when Louis’ ‘relationship’ with Eleanor had ended, they didn’t fight to come out. About how he’d love nothing more than being able to say Louis was his boyfriend. About how alone he had felt when Zayn quit. He started to hiccup as he got to end.

‘ _I love you with all my heart and I always will, Louis, but I don’t want to be someone’s secret_.’

He placed the papers neatly on the floor next to him, curled up into a ball on his side and let the sobs wrack his body until he fell asleep.

 

_October 2017_

Louis stands on the porch with his arms folded watching as the car speeds towards him down the long drive. It’s a bright, red speck in the distance; tyres kicking up dry dust behind it. He can hear the music blaring out the speakers even from this far away. As the car gets closer Niall’s voice mixes in as he waves his arms to music. Louis can see Liam chuckling from the driver’s seat and Zayn in the back pretending to hate every second of it even with the small grin on his face.

He’s not going to deny he’s nervous. When Liam called a fortnight ago and demanded to see him a ball of nervous energy took root in his stomach and got steadily bigger the closer this day got, until it nearly overwhelmed him completely. He’d gotten so close to cancelling so many times over the last few days. Louis hasn’t seen Liam and Niall properly in nearly a year and Zayn since he left the band. He wonders if they’ll be mad at him for being the reason the band fell apart. He can feel a bead of sweat make its way down the side of his face, skin prickling under his clothes in nervous anticipation.

The music cuts out as Liam pulls the car next to Louis’ Range Rover and kills the engine. The dirt the tyres has kicked up swirls in the wind before settling back to the ground. Louis puts his hand up in front of his eyes to block the low autumn sun as he steps out from under the shade of building.

“Nice car, lads,” Louis greets the boys as he steps off the porch and walks towards the car. He clears his throat nervously. It’s a BMW convertible, even brighter up close. “Bit girly isn’t it?”

“Ha-ha-ha,” Liam replies, dryly. He opens the door and steps out. “It was all they had left at the rental company and Niall wanted it anyway.” Liam shakes his head fondly. Yup, Louis knew all about that. Nobody said no to Niall.

When he gets in front of Liam, Liam draws him into a tight hug. “Missed you man,” he says softly, patting Louis on the back as he pulls away. Liam smiles sweetly and holds him at arm’s length, eyes perusing his face.

“Missed you too, Li.” Louis quirks his eyebrow in question as Liam’s gaze. He squints his eyes and sticks his tongue out after a beat has past. Whatever Liam sees must appease him because Liam easily relinquishes his hold on Louis with a chuckle and a pat on the shoulder. Niall jumps up and wraps all four of his limbs around Louis for his own greeting, mumbling all sorts of nonsense in his ear.

He finally manages to put the man-child down enough to be able to turn to Zayn.

“Hi love,” Zayn says looking sheepishly down at the ground. He reaches to rub the back of his neck shyly and when Zayn lifts his head up to look at him, Louis can see the unshed tears in his eyes.

“Oi, Malik! Stop or you’ll make _me_ cry.” Louis flings himself at Zayn, only just keeping his balance so they don’t tumble to the dirty ground. Niall giggles delightedly from next to them, clapping his hands. “It’s been far too long babe.” Louis nuzzles his head into the space between Zayn’s neck and shoulder. He smells like cologne and soap and Zayn and Louis has missed this boy most of all. “Two fucking years and all I get is a text every few months. You have a lot of explaining to do, young man.”

“But first, tour then food!” Niall shouts, turning to head up to the house.

Liam smiles brightly over his shoulder as he follows Niall up the steps of the porch. “Better hurry up Lou before Niall eats everything in your cupboards.” He lets the porch door swing shut behind him with a snap and then there were two.

Gravel crunches under foot as Zayn walks over to the waist-high fence surrounding the front of Louis’ property. Louis follows. He props his elbows up and rests his head on his hands. Louis glances up at Zayn and all the nervousness and anxiety he felt about seeing these three again disappears when he sees nothing but understanding in his eyes.

They break eye contact after a beat and Zayn looks back out in front of him.

“Lou, man, this view is amazing,” he says, gesturing across the empty fields in front of him. Wide, open expanses of green surround Louis’ home of six months. There are big, rolling hills in the distance and the sun is just starting to slip over the horizon, sending waves of yellow and pink across the sky and clouds. He loves it and has spent many an evening sat on the porch just watching the sun set.

At first he was nervous about moving out of the city and into the countryside. The nearest property to his was well over a mile away and even then it was an empty farm building.

The first few nights he spent here every little noise woke him up. Was that a creaking floorboard? Was that rustle outside someone trying to break in?

He no longer had a security detail following him everywhere (though Alberto made a point to check in with – read: check up on - him every few days). He didn’t have to check in every time he wanted to go out. He didn’t have entire weeks and months scheduled out. It was exhilarating and, for the most part, the scariest thing he had ever experienced. It was so easy to forget he wasn’t the only person left on the planet.

“Yeah, it really is something,” Louis responds.

They stay outside shoulder-to-shoulder until the sun disappears completely and the sky darkens into twilight.

\--

Night finds them huddled around the fire-pit at the bottom of Louis’ garden. Louis lies with his head in Niall’s lap, Niall absentmindedly petting his hair as he laughs at the story Liam’s just told. Zayn is curled up on the sleeping bag at Louis’ feet breathing deep and even in sleep, left arm being used as a pillow. Liam plays with the fingers of Zayn’s right hand that are spread out in front of him.

It’s been a nice evening, a lovely autumn night outside. After dining on burgers and chips (Louis’ cooking skills have improved slightly since the nearest fire station is at least half an hour away) and sharing beers between themselves, they all grabbed sleeping bags and cushions and made their way outside.

It’s like all of Louis’ worries about seeing his former bandmates weren’t even there to start with. They laughed when he tried to apologise for being the reason that the band fell apart and completely shot him down when he tried again not thirty minutes later.

Both Liam and Niall admitted that as hard as it was to walk away from the band, they were much more settled living the lives they were now.

“So, how long are you lads staying out here for?” Louis asks after no one speaks for a while. He picks at the patch of grass in front of him. “Not that I mind you being here but I know you’re all quite busy and I’m, well, not.”

“Hadn’t really put on a timeframe on it mate,” Niall replies and Liam hums his agreement. “However long you’ll have us. My fans will still be there when I get back,” he finishes with a wink.

“Yeah, and I’m taking a bit of a break after touring with Stuart for the last nine months,” Liam says. He rubs his knuckles over Zayn’s cheek when he starts fussing in his sleep; Zayn quickly settles back down with a soft sigh. “And I’m fairly certain Zayn doesn’t have any plans.”

The question he really wants to ask is on the tip of his tongue as Niall and Liam talk above him. He doesn’t think he has a right to know though. The topic has been the-elephant-in-the-room for them ever since One Direction was declared deceased.

It was a little over a month after Louis’ world collapsed, and Liam had walked into Louis’ ransacked apartment to find him sat on the edge of the sofa in a daze after he hadn’t been seen for four days, that they had decided to call it a day.

Louis sits up abruptly when he feels the familiar scratching at the back of his throat coughing a few times to try and clear it.

He refuses to breakdown in front of them. He refuses to succumb to the itch under his skin; the monster threatening to crawl its way from below the surface. He tries to push it away for when he goes to bed but as his eyes start to water Louis stands up and makes his excuses, half running into the house, going straight for the kitchen sink and dry-retching a few times.

He slides down the cupboard and curls into a ball on the floor. He can feel the tears cascading down his face but he’s powerless to stop them when they start. At least when he cries the cravings disappear. Louis’ demons can stay hidden in the closet.

When they signed the piece of paper calling time on the group Louis locked himself in his – _their_ – apartment for weeks. The only people he wanted to see were his mum and sisters. He had deactivated all his social media accounts. His phone sat un-used on the bedside table, collecting dust. He refused point blank to talk to anybody. Requests for interviews went unanswered.

Only at night did he let the darkness take over and swallow him whole. Louis spent hours sat up in bed, rocking backwards and forwards, hands clutching at bottles of vodka or whiskey or whatever else he had stashed away in kitchen cupboards as memory after memory assaulted him.

Breakfasts in bed. Sneaking in hotel rooms. Holding hands when no one else was looking. Private smiles shared across the room. Play-fights on stage that got so heated one or the other was shipped halfway across the world as soon as they had a free day. Pretend girlfriends. Rumours they were forced to dismiss. He’d picked apart everything in the end. Tried to find the tell-tale signs that they wouldn’t last forever.

He’d been completely oblivious to his world crumbling around him until he was already stood amongst the ruins.

Little by little he started to sleep better, but never for longer than a few hours. He ate better, though he’d lost count of the number of nights he’d drunk himself to sleep. His mum stopped threatening to come to stay. He started leaving the house. Met up with friends. Took his sisters to gigs and on holidays. Started to look into setting up a small record label – with the help and support of his Mum, of course. Considered building bridges with his former bandmates.

Two years later his nightly breakdowns were now few and far between.

Louis finds himself thinking back to when news broke about Zayn quitting the band. How upset they had all been. How, even though they all wanted to be there for Zayn, they had promises to meet, contracts to fulfil.

Hours after Zayn had been put on a plane back to England, the remaining four were on stage trying their hardest to keep it together. He wanted to be able to go up to Harry and envelope him in a hug but he wasn’t allowed to. He settled for gazing longingly when one of the others was singing. Liam had struggled to keep his emotions in check during ‘You & I’ and he’d never felt so relieved to be off stage and back in their hotel suite.

He remembers rocking a trembling Liam to sleep while Harry sat on the windowsill, lost in thought, and Niall strummed away quietly on his guitar. How when they eventually got to bed, Harry had fallen asleep with his back to Louis, what felt like miles between their bodies.

For years through their friendship and subsequent relationship, he had always fallen asleep on his back, Louis pillowed on his chest.

It should’ve been the first obvious clue that something was wrong.

When the blackness at the edge of his vision starts to recede, he can feel hands on his shoulders. His hands get pulled away from the side of his head, Liam taking one and Zayn taking the other. Louis lets the boys guide him to his feet. Niall runs ahead of them to set the sofa up.

They all sit together; a pile of tangled limbs and soft, comforting murmurs. He has hands in his hair, grasping his arms and wrapped around his ankles grounding him back into the moment. Someone has thought to bring in every blanket off Louis’ bed, though it does nothing to stave off the chill that seems to be drilled into his bones. Zayn and Liam start a debate on who the better Avenger is, Niall butting in with stupid questions every now and again.

Louis sits there quietly listening to the others bickering. He feels soft and giddy from the familiarity of the moment, ignoring the fact that there is one massive piece of the puzzle missing.

Dawn slowly breaks in the east. The sky is tinted pink and orange promising a better day but still the boys don’t move.

\--

The following week passes much the same, days spent playing football and watching films. When night rolls around they all crowd together on the floor in front of the fire, sometimes talking, sometimes not. No one wants to sleep alone now they’re together and Louis is more than happy to indulge them as the thought of an empty bed still hurts all this time later.

“I think it’s time we went shopping, Lou.” Liam pulls his head from out of the refrigerator where he was trying to find things to put together breakfast. “You have nothing! No, wait-,” he pulls out a Tupperware box from the back of the fridge, “You have mouldy curry. Gross!” He deposits it into the bin on his way to the dining table, still mumbling about food poisoning.

“You do realise the nearest supermarket is ages away? We past the signs for it on the way in,” Zayn points out from his spot at the breakfast bar where he’s been playing Candy Crush for the last hour. Louis stands over his shoulder and tries to help but Zayn has been batting his hands away every time Louis reaches over to make a move. Louis huffs and jumps up on the counter next to him.

“But I’m wasting away Z!” Niall exclaims and pretends to faint over the dining table. “I’m a growing lad.”

“You’ve been using that excuse for years, Niall, you are officially a grown lad now.” Zayn ducks when Niall throws a coaster at his head, not looking up from his phone. It lands with a _thunk_ on the kitchen floor.

Louis can’t stop the smile that appears on his face when Niall and Zayn start to argue, getting louder and louder to be heard over each other while Liam sticks his fingers in his ears to block it out. He’s still the same timid boy when it comes to arguments, serious or not.

He loves the fact that his favourite people are still here (most of them). That they haven’t gotten sick of him yet. Although he hasn’t broken down since that one night the previous week, he knows he’s not the easiest person to live with at the moment. He can go from being down and depressed one moment to laughing so hard it borders on hysteria the next. Liam hinted at seeing a doctor the day before but Louis just brushed him off.

Taking in the scene before him, Louis jumps off the counter and strolls out the kitchen to find his wallet and car keys, bellowing “children, get your shoes on.” He smothers a chuckle at the stampede that follows him out the house.

\--

The drive to town passes quickly with Liam pointing out all the animals they see on the way and Zayn and Niall still arguing away in the back seat occasionally breaking into scuffles that knock Louis seat. After he threatens to leave them at the side of the road they stop and when Louis glances back at them through the rear view mirror they are both sitting there with their arms folded, pointedly looking out the windows and not at each other. Sometimes he swears his friends are 5, not 25.

When they reach the outskirts of town Liam says, “Why do I feel like I’ve entered the Twilight Zone?” his head swivelling in all directions as he takes in the buildings and lack of people.

Louis slows the car down to a crawl and rolls his window down. “’cus you have? Welcome to the quietest village in southern England, lads. Also known as Copper Mill. Population of less than two thousand people. Now I would appreciate it if you could keep your hands and feet in the vehicle at all times,” he quips, “as I point out the many attractions this dear village holds.”

He leaves the others to their sightseeing as he pulls into the car park at the end of the block next to the indoor market. Turning the engine off, he deposits his sunglasses in the centre console and exits the vehicle, stretching his arms above his head as he starts walking.

“Aren’t you going to lock up, Lou?” Liam asks as he dashes to catch up, quirking an eyebrow when Louis laughs.

“Nah, Matt won’t let anything happen to it.” He salutes the kid standing by the entrance. “How you doing buddy? Keeping out of trouble?” he says when he stops in front of a boy of no older than 16 wearing flowery board shorts and an old band tee that Louis has vague recollections of going missing recently.

“Yeah man. Mum said to tell you she’ll send up some meals the weekend.” He bumps the fist Louis offers and rolls away on his skateboard over to the car. Matt takes out a book from his back pocket and jumps up on the bonnet, propping his feet up on the grille.

“Who’s the kid?” Zayn asks, reaching past Louis to grab a trolley from the row attached to the wall. Louis smacks him round the head when he rolls it over his foot.

“The ‘kid’ is Matt. Mum runs the bakery we drove past on the way through. I was out driving round the place when I first got here and saw some older kids knocking him about so I stopped to help him.” He stops to shake hands with a few of the stallholders and kisses an elderly lady on the cheek when they get stopped by the fruit and veg. “Ever since then she brings me pastries and things since she knows I can’t cook much of anything. I guess things we said in interviews back in the day are still well known now.”

Continuing on they get to the only food store in the village. ‘Mason’s’ the sign above the door proudly displays. Inside it’s more like your typical corner shop than a supermarket. Aisles are pushed close together with enough space to manoeuvre a trolley through without someone coming the other way. Every spare space is crammed full of goods and the walls are adorned with special offer posters, some yellow and faded as if the owner tacks new ones up over the old ones rather than remove them.

“Louis!”

“How you doing Frank? Missus keeping you busy?” Louis hugs the old man that has walked over to them, turning to the others with an arm around Frank’s shoulder. “Lads, this is Frank Mason. Business extraordinaire and one of the reasons why I didn’t go insane the first week of living here. Frank, these are my former bandmates; Niall, Liam and Zayn.”

“I know who they are, boy. I don’t live under a bridge.” Frank cuffs him around the back of the head. Louis squeals before ducking out of his reach. “Seen and heard enough about them over the last few years.” He turns to Liam and says, “My granddaughter was a fan. Had all the CDs and posters all over her walls. Drove my son crazy it did. But, of course, young Harry was her favourite.”

Louis drops his head and shuffles his feet. When he looks up, Zayn is looking at him, face soft with sympathy. Niall and Liam are leading Frank down one of the aisles.

Zayn comes up to Louis and puts his hand on his shoulders. “You good?” he asks.

“Fine,” Louis responds, shrugging out of the touch. He takes the trolley from Zayn and follows behind the others.

He’s fine. He’s been fine for a while now. Louis wonders if he’ll ever get close to being good.

\--

Before Louis even notices it October is making its way into November bringing with it a chill that creeps under the doors and a breeze that shakes the windows when it buffets the house. The others have been staying with him for nearly a month now; only Niall leaving for any length of time for a pre-booked show back in London.

He hates this time of year; hates how the fire in the living room seems to be permanently going; hates that he’s wrapped up in hoodies and sweats and thick socks and feels suffocated; hates how he sometimes can’t get a moments peace.

Liam stocks the cupboards up with hot chocolate and marshmallows, and invites Diane and Matt over some evenings; the former bringing some of her creations from the bakery and the latter vowing to beat Niall at FIFA.

The air inside the house feels thick and heavy with memories that choke up Louis’ throat and make him blink back tears. The smell is the worst though.

It reminds Louis of early mornings tucked up in bed with Harry when they had days off; doors and windows firmly locked to keep the cold (and prying eyes) away. They would drag in the duvet from the guest bedroom and make a nest in bed; only leaving to replenish tea mugs and fill up plates with pastries that Harry had baked the previous night. He insisted on trying new variations of fruit-fillings and using Louis as a guinea pig.

He’d loved those mornings.

Giggling when Harry googled ‘Knock Knock’ jokes and recited them in his raspy, deep voice still soaked in sleep. Smiling when they broke apart from breathless kisses and promises of forever. When they could just forget that a whole other life existed outside of the walls of their apartment – a life of deceit and sadness.

The smell reminds him of home –of safety and security, of love and kindness, of family and promises.

Louis blinks back into the present when a knock sounds on the door frame. He looks up from his position crouched in front of the fire and sees Matt leaning against the door post. Releasing the fists his hands have curled into, he stands. A small crease appears between Matt’s eyebrows as concern darkens his features.

“What’s up buddy?” Louis asks, clearing his throat. His palms tingle where his nails have left little half-moon indents.

“Mum wanted me to let you know she’s dishing up dinner.” Matt pushes off the door frame and makes his way over to Louis. “You okay, Louis? You looked, -pensive.”

Louis snorts. “Pensive? Big word, mate. You swallow a dictionary?” He clears his throat again and steps to pass Matt when a hand grabs his wrist. Matt pulls his arm until Louis is standing in front of him.

“I know what I mean. I might be a kid but I’m not stupid.” Matt drops his gaze and when he looks back up it’s with a determination in his eyes that, to be quite frank, scares Louis and he has to look away. “Is it Harry?”

Nearly giving himself whiplash lifting his head, Louis looks at Matt incredulously. How can Matt possibly know about that? He hasn’t spoken to anyone here about _him_ and the only people who know are in the other room.

Louis can feel the panic creeping up his spine and his limbs tingle with the need to flee the room. Black spots start to dance in front of his vision. He blinks, trying to clear them and realises Matt looks even more worried than when he first walked into the room.

“Ha-Harry?”

“Yes, Harry.”

“Why do you say that?” He starts scratching the front of his throat. Maybe he can calm the itch from outside.

“’cus every time anyone has mentioned his name this past month Liam looks at you out of the corner of his eye and Zayn puts his arm around you, and Niall’s great at keeping me distracted but I notice more than you lot give me credit for. He’s the only one not here and he hasn’t called.” Matt shrugs a shoulder. “I put two and two together.”

“Yeah and got fucking five,” Louis snaps, finally turning from Matt and walking to the other side of the room.

Louis wraps his arms around his middle and leans his head against the cold windowpane. Taking several deep breaths and closing his eyes, he turns back around, ready to apologise, however when he opens his eyes Matt has gone and in place is Zayn.

“What’s going on, Louis?”

“No-nothing.” Louis voice cracks as he answers and he grits his teeth to stop snapping at Zayn too. He’ll have to apologise to Matt later, he thinks. “Why does everyone think something’s wrong? I’m okay. I am better than okay. I am fine!”

 _I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine_ ; he’ll get it stamped on his forehead if only to make people leave him the hell alone.

“Yeah, Lou, that’s the problem. You’ve been ‘fine’ for ages.” Zayn makes the ‘fine’ as sarcastic as he can (complete with finger-quotes) and Louis hates him for it. “But I heard you snap at Matt and you’ve never spoken to a kid like that before. He cares Lou, we all do.”

Suitably mollified, Louis heaves a great sigh. Only when he lifts a hand to rub his eyes does he notice the wetness on his cheeks, and his face burns in embarrassment at not having noticed he’s been crying. Shit, did Matt see? He really needs to get a grip before Liam has him shipped off to a mental hospital. Or maybe talking about it, some of it, with the people who love him will help?

“I know you all do, Zayn. And I love all of you for it. But the one per-person,” his voice cracks on the last word and his tears start flowing in earnest. He clears his throat and tries again. “But the one person I want to care isn’t even here. He left me, Zayn! He packed up all his stuff and left! He didn’t give two shits about me when he was stuffing his suitcases and running out the door when I wasn’t there to stop him. I gave him everything, Zayn, everything I had. He wouldn’t even look at me at that last meeting. He took my heart and shattered it and as hard as I fucking try, I can’t put it back together. It’s broken and I don’t want it anymore. Please, Zayn…”

 

Louis starts sobbing in earnest when Zayn envelopes him in his arms, legs giving out underneath him. He buries his head in Zayn’s neck and cries for everything; for his broken relationship with his ex-bandmate, for not being able to move on, for the shadow of person he knows he’s turned in to. He can’t stop; even when Zayn moves them to the sofa and tucks him under his arm. Zayn starts shushing him and running a hand up and down his back for comfort, rocking him slightly in his arms.

When finally the sobs die down and he’s left a snivelling mess in his friend’s arms, when the blood stops rushing past his ears and when the room stops spinning long enough to concentrate, he can hear other voices in the room. They’re whispering; as to not disturb them or so Louis can’t hear what’s being said, he doesn’t know. Nor does he care, to be honest.

He concentrates on the feel of Zayn’s hand on his back. He focuses on taking one breath and then another.

Just over the sound of Zayn’s voice, a soothing repetition of “it’s okay Lou. You’re okay. You’re doing so well. Take a breath for me babe” he can make out Niall’s Irish twang and Diane’s worried murmurings, though he still can’t hear what’s being said. His eyes feel puffy and heavy and just as he closes them, sleep overcoming him so fast he’d think someone has slipped him something under any other circumstance, he finally hears Liam.

“Yeah, it’s me. He’s a mess...”

\--

“ _Louis William Tomlinson, you had better answer your phone, or so help me, I will be bringing you home so fast you won’t even have time to pack a change of pants!_ ”

His phone beeps as the message ends and he cringes at how mad his Mum sounds. Louis turns his head to glare at Liam, who is standing in the corner of his bedroom picking at his nails and not looking the least bit sorry at having told his Mum on him.

It’s the following morning and Louis had awoken wrapped up in what must be every blanket he owns not five minutes before to his phone beeping incessantly from the bedside table.

When he’d looked he had 15 missed calls, five voicemails and an infinite number of texts from his Mum and Lottie demanding that he call them as soon as he woke up, which is when he’d spotted Liam leaning up against the wall as if he’d been stood sentry all night.

“I did it for your own good, mate,” Liam says, sounding bored, already making his way to the door. “Now call her back and then come downstairs. We need to talk to you.”

As the door slams behind Liam, Louis lets out a scream of anguish and then flops on his back. He pushes his sweaty fringe from his forehead and decides to take stock of the situation.

So he’d broken down last night. His worst breakdown since the night Harry had left from what Louis can remember. Everyone had seen it. Zayn had been the one to comfort him. How embarrassing. Liam had rung his Mum!

Guilt starts to eat away at his stomach. She must’ve been so worried when Liam had told her what was happening.

God, this is why he’d moved so far away from everyone. He doesn’t want anybody worrying about him. He’s a grown man with a broken heart. He isn’t the first and he won’t be the last. So why, two years later, is he still suffering for it?

Shouldn’t he be happy about not being tied down anymore? He can go out and shag whoever he wants to and not answer to anyone about it. Not Harry, not the other lads, not the record label or management.

He could do it, he thinks. Go to the next city over and pull anybody in some random club. Guy, girl, who the fuck cares? Take them into the bathroom and fuck them in a stall. He’s still gorgeous. Still witty. Still famous enough that there would be a line of people waiting for a turn if he so wished.

But even now, two years, two months and a handful of days later, it still feels like he’d be cheating.

As that thought settles over him, his phone starts ringing. Some version of an old Black Sabbath song that Liam has remixed with a song from one of Louis’ signings.

“Hi Mum,” Louis says, answering his phone not needing to look at the screen and rolling onto his side. He pulls down one of his pillows from the top of the bed and tucks it under his chin. “I’m fine…”

\--

An hour later, his Mum placated enough to stay in Doncaster and not drive hours across the country, Louis makes his way downstairs. Freshly showered and shaved. Clean clothes and not whatever he has lying on the floor of his bedroom. He feels like he’s marching to his death, however, when he rounds the corner into the dining room and sees everyone sat around the table.

The conversation they were having stops when they see him.

“Tea, Louis?” Niall is the first to speak pushing a mug over to him. Louis flinches at the tone in his voice; overly polite and stern. Niall is never stern with anybody, not even when he’s trying to be serious.

“Thanks,” he replies quietly, dropping into the seat at the head of the table. Liam is on his left, Niall and Zayn on his right.

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife, Louis thinks, as he picks up the mug and takes a sip. He puts the mug back down and starts running a fingernail along the grain of the wood on the table, stubbornly refusing to lift his head and meet anyone’s gaze.

Zayn clears his throat and starts speaking. “Louis, you know we love you. We only want you to be happy and healthy -”

Niall cuts in “-but you scared us last night, mate. I mean, I have never seen you like that. Ever. You’re supposed to be the cool, calm, collected one of us. The one we come running to when we’re stuck or need a cuddle. What happened to the Louis who wouldn’t think twice about supergluing my toothbrush to the sink? With all the crying and the drinking -”

“Drinking? Wh-what drinking, lads?” Louis feels his blood pressure start to rise and his cheeks flush. “Nobody said anything about drinking.”

The clatter of bottles banging together in a bag as they are put on the table is so loud it echoes around the room (or just in Louis’ head).

He drops his head to the table with a bang and groans.

“Why did I find these in your closet?” Liam asks, so much sympathy and sweetness in his voice it makes Louis’ teeth ache. “They were hidden in your duffle bag.”

Louis closes his eyes and forces his breathing to remain normal, but it’s hard when all he wants to do is grab the bottles from the middle of the table and yell “mine!” so loud he blows out the windows. Or throw his mug at the wall and watch it shatter into as many pieces as his heart feels. Drop to his knees in the middle of the kitchen and scream and scream and scream until his lungs can’t take anymore and his vocal chords are shredded.

Really give them something to be scared about.

Maybe Liam had a point about speaking to somebody professional.

This isn’t him. Louis knows that. He might be broken and torn up but he isn’t stupid. But maybe trying to deal with it by himself is stupid.

He lifts his head and seeing the worry etched into his friends, his _brothers_ faces, he figures they deserve some sort of explanation for what he’s been going through the last few years. His Mum knew about more about it than they did, and at one point, way back when, the guys knew absolutely everything about him.

Louis takes a deep breath, steels his shoulders for what could quite possibly be one of the hardest things he has ever done, and begins…

“Well, Liam was the one who found me after --it happened. You remember that Li? I had been sat on the sofa in that apartment for, I don’t know, I think it had been three, maybe four days since I got back from the States?” Liam nods and Louis continues, “Well, you know most of what happened up until the label meeting. At first it all felt like a mistake, like if he saw me at that meeting he would forget that he’d walked out on me, that we would reunite like in some cheesy romantic fucking drama, and I would have forgiven him so easily but he acted like I didn’t exist. Like I was invisible. And I wanted to be I realised.

“I needed to be invisible because if anyone else asked me if I was all right I don’t know what I would have done. Would I have screamed? Cried? Punched someone? I didn’t want to hurt anyone or make anybody worry about me. So when the meeting ended I locked myself away. I turned my phone off and deactivated all of my social media accounts. I honestly can’t remember the first few days. I have no idea if I ate, or drank, or if I cried. Fuck, I might have slept the whole time or not at all. The first week is this blank space in my memory.

“Mum came down the second week and insisted I have a shower and eat and pull myself together. But it was hard. I refused to let her stop in the flat so put her up in a hotel because during the day I was fine, but at night, I was a mess.” He can feel tears start falling down his face and looks away from the boys. “The drinking helped me sleep, after a fashion. It was better to pass out from the drink than sit up in bed all night thinking about what the hell went wrong. And that was all I could focus on for so long; how had I not noticed what was going on? What the fuck was more important than _him_? Why did I let them hide us for so long? Why did I go along with it in the first place?

“It took a _long_ time to sort myself out. Baby steps, me Mum called it. Get out of bed in a morning. Have a shower. Brush my teeth. Make breakfast. Lottie came down to stay when Mum had to go back home for the younger ones and then Fizzy took over. Two months later I had some semblance of a routine. The drinking had gone from being an every night thing to three times a week, then once a week, once a fortnight. Once a month. But instead of drinking at night, I would be sneaking out to the pub at lunch time. I tried to hide it from the girls and liked to think I was successful but I think they knew.

“I tried to be normal. I took the girls on holidays when they weren’t at school. Took them to the seaside so many times that they started to beg to go somewhere else. I looked into starting the record label and that took up so much of my time that I didn’t have time to think about looking after myself anymore, let alone him. Mum took over in the end. Well, the admin side of it anyway. I still had control over who was signed. Had demo tapes and contracts coming out of my ears. It was like I’d traded one obsession for another.

“18 months after he left, I moved. I didn’t want to be a burden on anybody anymore and I was way too scared to call you guys for so long. I figured a clean break was exactly what I needed. Al was the one who convinced me to answer the phone when you next called. I love you guys so much and just didn’t want to be a disappointment to you like I was to him. I haven’t had a drink since you guys came here and I wasn’t planning to. But I guess the drinking helped me to forget that he was …” He lets his sentence trail off; not being able to think of anything anywhere near accurate to sum up just what Harry meant to him.

They all sit around the table for a second, breathing heavily. Louis looks up from the spot on the table he’s been staring at for the last part and sees tears in Liam and Zayn’s eyes, Niall unashamedly weeping, at having heard all the pain and anguish and hurt that Louis had gone through.

One beat everyone is frozen and the next the boys are leaping up from their seats and surrounding Louis, arms tangling around his shoulders in a hug that fills Louis with so much warmth he thinks he’d like to float away with it.

\--

The mood in the house in the week leading up to Christmas is subdued at best. No one feels like getting into the spirit of things. The house remains undecorated and there isn’t a tree lighting up the corner of the living room. Presents have been bought and placed in the closet in the hallway but Louis refuses to decorate the house. Doesn’t even own one Christmas bauble. He didn’t the previous year and he doesn’t want to this one. Christmas was always more Harry’s thing. Louis doesn’t need the reminder of another new year spent alone.

And alone he will spend it.

On the 22nd his Mum rung to tell him they wouldn’t be able to make it down to him (“The twins have the flu and I just know the others are going to catch it, and it’s not fair to bring it down with us. We’ll come down in the New Year when everyone is better. Sorry boo”).

With much convincing on Louis’ part, on his birthday, after lunch and opening each other’s presents, the others depart to spend a few days with their families with Liam promising they’ll be back early on the 28th so they can toast in the New Year together.

Christmas Day itself comes and goes quietly.

He wakes up at 2pm and drags his bedding down the stairs. He makes a nest in front of the fire.

Hours pass staring at the flames; wishing for something stronger than the tea he’s forcing himself to stick with. Not that he’d be able to get alcohol today. The town is closed up until the following day and Louis watched as Liam poured every last drop down the drain, trying to keep his face blank where he watched from the doorway but he could feel his lip twitching. Not even a bottle of wine remains; Liam’s removed every single temptation.

8pm arrives and Louis goes back to bed.

\--

Boxing Day finds him walking into town, desperate for some company to keep the need to drink away. He’s only got to make it through another twenty-four hours and the boys will be back.

As much as he was lucking forward to some alone time, he suddenly wishes he’d made someone stay with him. He knows any of them would have offered had he asked but he’d already felt guilty enough piling all his problems onto them. The last thing he wanted was them resenting him for keeping them away from their families at this time of year.

The 20-minute drive has become a three-hour walk by the time he makes it to the town limits. The fresh air and exercise has done wonders at clearing his head.

As he walks down the main road a few of the stores are open so people can buy the things they are desperate for, but he knows that they’ll be closed by early afternoon when the number of people driving through dwindles down to nothing.

Pulling his collar up around his throat battling to keep the brisk wind from licking down the back of his neck, Louis makes a beeline for Mason’s; the lights of the building a welcome sight in the distance against the steel-grey backdrop of the sky. As he crosses the threshold the first sprinkles of snow land on his nose. He hopes Diane is at the bakery a few doors down so he can get a lift home. He doesn’t fancy walking back in this.

“Hello Louis,” calls Frank when he sees him. He’s sweeping up between the aisles. Louis wipes his feet on the mat by the door.

“Hey Frank. Any chance of a cuppa? It’s freezing out there and I was stupid enough to walk.” Louis grins cheekily at Frank when he mumbles “kids” and limps off into the backroom where Louis knows he keeps the kettle.

Louis leans on the counter, running his hands over the cold, fake-marbled surface. He smiles to himself when he hears Frank humming in the back room. Turning to lean back against the counter, he wraps his arms around himself to keep warm. A crate of pre-packaged bread loaves sits next to a bundle of newspapers that sit still wrapped up on the floor. He cocks his head to see if he can make out the headline and feels his heart stop when it registers what it is.

‘ _Christmas in Styles’_

Pushing himself off the counter, he takes one step, then another and another until he’s standing above the pile of newspapers that Frank obviously didn’t bother putting out on such a quiet day. Dropping to his knees he pushes the invoice out of the way to read the first paragraph.

‘ _Former One Direction star Harry Styles looks like he’s had a very merry Christmas indeed as news emerged overnight that he is engaged to be married! Harry Styles, 23, was spotted out and about with beau, 26-year-old up-and-coming singer/songwriter Matthew Stone, in LA last night. Fans following the singer said he looked delighted and couldn’t stop staring at his left hand. When stopped for photographs…_ ’

Shit. Shit shit shit, Louis thinks, pushing himself as far away from the offending paper as quickly as he can, crashing into a display behind him. Bottles rattle on the shelves. He lifts his head to make sure nothing falls off when he sees that it’s the spirits shelf he’s knocked into. As fast as he can before Frank comes out the back, Louis grabs a few bottles of the strongest whiskey on the shelf, throws some money on the counter and bolts out the door into the snow.

He starts running as soon as his feet hit the pavement outside the shop, trying to put as much distance between himself and that article as possible.

About halfway home he opens up one of the bottles and takes a massive gulp of liquid. A few drops trickle out the side of his mouth and he wipes them away with his sleeve, not even flinching as the strong taste hits his tongue.

He sniffles back tears he refuses to let fall and concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other so he doesn’t fall into a ditch at the side of the road.

Louis takes another mouthful of whiskey. Harry is engaged. Engaged to another man. He did it. He forgot Louis.

\--

_BEEP BEEP BEEP_

Louis flinches at the loud noise coming from his right. Fuck. He’s hungover and his alarm is blaring and today is not going to be a good day. Not opening his eyes he frowns when his senses start coming back to him.

Something isn’t right. What is he wearing? He doesn’t sleep in clothes. And these aren’t his blankets as he rubs his hands up and down his sides slowly; sheets scratching against his skin. The blankets are wafer-thin, doing absolutely nothing to stop him from shivering. His limbs ache like he’s run a marathon but he has no idea why. There’s a pounding behind his eyes and his mouth tastes like something died in there. Something is sticking in his nose and it’s uncomfortable so he slowly lifts his hand up to push it away when a hand grabs his to stop him.

“Lou?” he hears whispered from his left. The voice is familiar. Scary familiar. It’s the voice he only ever gets to hear in his dreams now. He screws his eyes up even tighter and can feel his heart pounding hard in his chest. So hard he’s surprised it hasn’t broke through yet.

What the fuck? What the fuck? WHAT…?

“Lou, baby, calm down please.”

Still not opening his eyes he turns his head to the new voice in the room. And just like that the panic subsides. Why is his Mum here? She was supposed to be in Doncaster. His siblings weren’t well. Flu, she had said when he called her last week. Wait.

What day is it? Wasn’t it Christmas? Was that today? Or yesterday. It could’ve been months ago for all he knows. How long has he been here? His brain fires question after question and he can feel the panic bubbling up again.

Trying his hardest to open his eyes, he gets them part way open before slamming them shut against the bright light that invades his mind. Damn, that hurts. He whimpers softly. He really needs a drink of water and for someone to turn that damn light off so he can open his eyes without scorching the inside of his skull.

“Shh, baby, shh.”

A hand comes up and runs through his hair. He thinks that it’s too large to be his Mum’s hand but regardless Louis nuzzles into the comfort the gesture offers and tries to move closer to the warmth. _Abort abort abort movement_ , his mind screams when his stomach revolts and before he knows it he’s being pushed into a sitting position. He dry heaves but nothing comes out, stomach empty. He vaguely recognises how sore his limbs are but the pain in his stomach completely overshadows it.

When he stops heaving someone gently lowers him back down to the bed and tucks him back in under the scratchy covers. The bed dips slightly on his right and the pressure of a hand rubbing up and down his arm lulls him back to sleep.

\--

(The next time Louis comes around - enough to be able to open his eyes in the semi-dark room, he swears he sees _him_ in the corner of the room; face illuminated by the glow of a phone screen, worry creasing the space between his eyebrows. But between one blink and the next he passes back out and the moment is forgotten.)

\--

Louis spends a grand total of four days in the hospital, which means its New Year’s Eve before the hospital releases him into his mother’s care with strict instructions that include NO DRINKING in big capital letters across the top of his discharge papers (like he’s some alcoholic and the first thing he’s going to do is crack open a beer in the car).

The air in the car on the drive home is tense at best.

The snow of the previous few days has disappeared, replaced by warmth and sunshine but it does nothing to lift Louis’ mood.

Jay keeps shooting glances at him out of the corner of her eye before refocusing on the road in front. Her lips are pulled into a thin line and she has purple bags under her eyes from sleeping very little on a cot in his hospital room. She’s been wearing the same t-shirt for two days and hair pulled back into a greasy bun. Louis’ never seen her less put-together. His Mum has always been stunning, flawless even in her pyjamas and slippers.

He can’t bring himself to feel guilty about it, however, even though a couple of weeks ago the guilt would’ve eaten away at the lining of his stomach like some parasite and he’d be grovelling for forgiveness.

Without the buffer of alcohol the same thought has been spinning around his head since he woke up that first day: _he forgot about me – just like he said he would_. On a loop, over and over and over until he had started muttering it out loud, first in his sleep and then when he was awake.

They pull up in front of his house, just as the sun is starting to set. Jay switches off the engine. All the windows are lit up and the faint sound of music is drifting out of the open living room window. He recognises Niall and Liam’s cars on the driveway. He thinks he spots Diane’s hidden around the side of the house and his own will still be in the garage where he left it the other morning. There’s one other car on the drive. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen it before.

Louis turns to his right when he feels a hand encase his own. He looks up at his Mum. A sense of unease fills the space between them, diminishing slightly when she offers him a small smile.

“They love you and wanted to see if you were well. I didn’t have the heart to turn them away. But if it’s too much you tell me and we’ll cut the evening short,” she says, voice so delicate he can just about hear it.

He coughs into his fist and nods. “I think I’ll be okay. Thank you for everything, Mum. I know I don’t deserve it. And I promise this was a one-time thing. I was just…”

“…overwhelmed?” She looks at him for a long moment before reaching a hand up and covering his cheek, stroking a thumb under his eye. “My little boy. You never have to explain yourself to me. You know this. And I know how you’re feeling. It doesn’t matter if it’s been two hours or two years. A broken heart is a broken heart. I just don’t understand why you thought you had to cope with this all by yourself.” She clears her throat and turns to open the car door.

When they are both out of the vehicle and she has Louis’ hospital bag slung over her shoulder she continues, “There are quite a few very anxious people waiting inside for you and you are just as important to them as you are to me. Come on.”

Jay puts her arm around his shoulder and leads him up the porch and into the house. She drops the bag by the bottom stair and takes his hand, pulling him towards the kitchen. She steps back and lets Louis through first.

“Welcome home!”

Liam, Niall, Zayn, Diane, Matt, Lottie and…

“Gemma,” he gasps out, scared to raise his voice any higher just in case she isn’t actually there and he has officially lost his mind.

“Hey Louis.” She walks around the breakfast bar to stand in front of him. Right, everyone else is looking between the two of them so, yes, real. “How are you?”

Without thinking about what this means or why she’s here he flings his arms around her waist and pulls her into a hug. Her arms come up around his shoulders and he lifts her up of the ground slightly, burying his head into her neck. The voice in his head stops.

Despite how he thinks he should be feeling at seeing his sort of ex-sister-in-law once again he can only feel happiness.

Louis’ relationship with Gemma has always been easy. From the very beginning. Even easier than his one with Harry. Harry had once told him that he loved that his sister and boyfriend got on so well. After that they met up for coffee on a regular basis, sometimes as a trio but more often than not, Louis would meet her on his own, especially when he and Harry were forced to be separate.

Louis sets her down back on her feet and is all of a sudden overcome with nerves. He scratches the back of his neck and mumbles “sorry”, looking down at his feet. A hand comes under his chin and he lifts his head back up to look at Gemma. Her cheeks are flushed with happiness and her eyes sparkle with unshed tears.

“Louis, love, why are you sorry?”

“Cus, like, you’re -… and I’m-…” he stammers, lifting his shoulders helplessly when he can’t (won’t) finish that sentence.

“What? You’re my knobhead-of-a-brother’s ex? So I can’t be happy to see you again? God, you dick. I _missed_ you.” In typical Gemma fashion she punches him on the arm hard and then pulls him back into her arms. “Your Mum called mine and I got here as quick as I could. You couldn’t have picked a place anymore remote?! I took a wrong turning twice!”

Everyone else in the room laughs and Louis finds himself chuckling along, albeit a lot quieter than Niall who finds the whole thing exchange hilarious.

He looks around at the faces of all the people who he loves and who love him and feels tears pool in his eyes, despite the goofy smile he can knows he’s sporting on his face. Hopelessly he tries to fight them, having enough of crying for a lifetime, but before long his face is wet and his Mum is pulling him from the room.

“Come on, time for a nap and then we can all hang out. I have changed your sheets and hung up all your clothes. Honestly Louis, you’re a grown man; do you not know what a hanger is yet?”

Louis laughs weakly and lets his Mum tuck him up in bed like old times.

Two hours later he’s awoken by a knock at the door. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he mumbles “come in” before flopping back down to his pillow and rolling onto his side towards to the door. The door swings open gently and Gemma pops her head around the doorframe.

“How’s sleeping beauty doing? Turned into a handsome prince yet?” she quips, brightening up when she sees him wide awake and sauntering into the room. She has a quick look around before removing her shoes and climbing up into the empty space on the bed next to him. She drags the duvet over herself as well and curls as close to Louis as possible, making him go cross-eyed trying to focus on her face.

“What are you doing?” Louis asks curiously.

“Well, I haven’t seen you for ages and then I get a phone call saying you tried to drink yourself to death, something that has apparently been going on for some time now. Honestly, Louis, he isn’t that special!” She blows a piece of hair off her face and stares at him, waiting for something; a reaction, a response; Louis is at a complete loss.

One thing Louis has always loved about Gemma is her no-nonsense attitude towards everyone and everything. If she doesn’t like you, you know about it. If she has an opinion, everyone is going to know about it. But hearing her speak so frankly about what he has been through makes him want to be sick again. Or cry. He seems to like doing that lately.

After a two-minute staring contest between the two Louis lets out a huff and buries his head back in his pillow. Gemma lifts a hand to start carding through his hair and he settles back down enough to turn to face her again.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It doesn’t have an off switch.” She looks concerned for a moment before schooling her expression into one of understanding. “I know you loved him, babe. But really? Was he worth all this? All this worry and pain. I know he’s my brother and all but I think he’s a complete twat for doing what he did and in the way he did. Believe me, both Mum and I have had so many words with him about it. We knew you weren’t coping but didn’t feel right about intervening. You already have a family. But Lou, you could have called and I would’ve been there.”

“I’m sorry Gem-,” he stops when she smacks his round the back of his head but carries on, “I didn’t feel like I had a right to call you.”

“Louis, you are and always will be my brother.” She pats his cheek quite harshly and jumps off the bed with so much energy it makes Louis dizzy. “Come on. Downstairs. Diane showed me and Lottie how to make choc-chip brownies and I know you’ll want to try one.”

He shakes his head fondly and climbs out of bed, putting sweats on over his boxers and grabbing his hoodie off the bottom of the bed. Gemma leaves her shoes by the side of the bed, waving him off when he asks when she’s leaving.

“I am not going anywhere for a few days and I’m kipping with you. So no funny business, mister.” She winks at him and takes his hand, pulling him down the stairs so fast he can’t help but giggle.

\--

New Year’s is a quiet affair. After eating too many brownies, which his Mum scolds him for (“this is not what the doctor had in mind when he said ‘proper food’ Louis”) and drinking a million cups of tea that have been made for him, none of which are made to his liking but he drinks anyway, they all retire to the front room to watch Jools Holland’s Hootenanny in the countdown to midnight.

This many people in his living room before Christmas made him suffocated but right at this very moment, Louis can’t help but feel completely content.

Diane and Jay are sharing the sofa with Matt wedged in the middle of them; his head on Diane’s shoulder where he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. Gemma is curled up in the armchair with Lottie sitting on the arm. Gemma has been showing her videos of her cat for the last twenty minutes. Girly giggles erupt from them every time a new video starts and Louis smiles at the pure joy on his sister’s face.

Louis and the other boys are sat on the floor in front of the fire, watching as Ed Sheeran attempts to sing his way through his new track, flush high on his cheeks from far too many drinks and stumbling over his words every time he hiccups. They laugh when Jools tries to give Ed a glass of water after he’s finished singing and instead swops it for a pint with the person sat next to him.

“ _And now, we have a very extra special guest for all you ladies and gentlemen watching at home. Here to countdown to 2018, please welcome Mr Harry Styles…_ ”

All the air is sucked out of the room as everyone takes a collective gasp. Louis freezes as Harry appears on screen, curls bouncing and dimples present, excitement clear in his eyes. He looks good, great, even. He’s wearing the yellow flower shirt from eras ago and it works with the dark blue jeans and brown, worn boots on his feet. TV-Harry pushes his hair away from his face and shakes hands with everyone near to him. Louis used to find that endearing, how Harry couldn’t walk into a room without shaking hands with everyone in it. And, though he should hate this man with every fibre of his being, he can still feel the thrill of attraction running through his veins.

“We don’t have to watch this, Louis,” Jay says, reaching over to the coffee table to grab the remote.

“No!” he shouts, making Liam jump where he’s sat next to him. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him even though his are glued to the screen.

Louis watches TV-Harry and waits for the inevitable crash and burn; the breakdown that he knows is surely coming. He waits for his heart to starts thumping in his chest, the bead of sweat make its way down the back of his neck. After a couple of moments, in which TV-Harry has started to lead the crowd into singing ‘Auld Lang Syne’ and readying for the 10-second countdown, he takes a deep breath and finally tears his eyes away from the screen.

He looks over his shoulder to see everyone watching him, waiting for any inkling of a negative reaction from him, he knows. Diane and Matt are watching him with wide-eyes. Gemma and Lottie are frozen in the armchair and the boys are all holding hands; Liam’s hand is on Louis’ ankle, creating a chain. His Mum has such a tight-grip on the television remote he can see where her knuckles have gone white.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. Just wanted to…see him.” He waves a hand sheepishly and smirks when everyone takes a breath at the same time. It’s quite comical really.

Liam pats him on the ankle and Gemma smiles at him before drawing Lottie’s attention back to her phone. His Mum blows him a kiss and looks the most visibly pleased at his calmness.

He turns back to the TV and watches as TV-Harry bows to the camera and lopes off to the side of the screen.

Midnight goes by with a toast to clichéd new beginnings; not a drop of alcohol passing Louis’ lips, instead opting for a glass of orange juice, accepting it with a small ‘thank you’ for Zayn as it’s past to him. He notices he’s the only one without a glass of champagne but he protested when Niall suggested they all abstain in support. Just because he isn’t drinking doesn’t mean the rest can’t.

“…besides,” Diana had said, “I have to drive back home after this anyway so I’ll only be having a sip.”

“Yeah and I don’t think that bottle went as far as I expected,” Niall said, lifting his glass into the air and clinking with Lottie’s.

Diane and Matt depart not long after midnight and his Mum goes off to bed shortly after that, citing tiredness as her excuse but he knows she just wants to let him have some space with his friends. She drops a kiss onto all of their foreheads and whispers “I am so proud of you” in his ear.

An easy silence settles over the room for a moment before Louis drops onto the middle sofa cushion, letting out a rushed breath. Lottie curls up one side of him and Gemma the other. Zayn perches on the back of the sofa behind his head.

“How are you really?” Lottie gets there first it seems.

Louis drops his head against the back of the sofa, hair brushing Zayn’s hand and thinks for a moment.

Yes, it was a surprise and yes, it hurt to see him looking so good. He won’t deny that. But not as much as it would’ve done a few weeks ago. Not that Louis was expecting to see his general appearance and attitude reflected in Harry. Harry always did bounce back quite fast. Although after tonight he feels like he’s hit a turning point. Finally.

Spending the last few days in hospital really put it into perspective for him. Being surrounded by rooms with people who had real problems and there he was, taking up space, worrying his family and friends, making his Mum think he was trying to off himself.

They had talked, completely and openly when Louis was able to. About everything. All of it. The parts she didn’t know and the parts she already had guessed. It was freeing and nice and although it didn’t take all of the pain away, it had helped a lot.

He had told her about seeing the newspaper article and losing it. She’d already seen it, of course, and was already packing a bag, knowing her boy would need her. He told her how well he had been doing, or thought he had been doing, until he was grabbing the bottles and running. Not thinking about killing himself; just wanting to forget what he had seen.

She told him about Diane being the one to call her and tell her where he was. How Diane had scoured the sides of the road for hours until she came across what she thought was a pile of rubbish at first before realising it was Louis. That Frank has called Diane when Louis had disappeared out the store.

The doctors came to see him just before they discharged him. “It’s called binge-drinking. I won’t call you an alcoholic, Mr Tomlinson, because we both know you don’t actually need it all the time, but essentially you drank so much so fast that your body stopped processing it. It’s dangerous. So much can go wrong. Not just from effects of the drinking but the environment and people around you. You could be assaulted or run over or not found in time. Much more and you’d have stopped breathing entirely. You are very lucky.”

“I’m good, Lottie,” he says blinking back into the present, grabbing his sister’s hand and kissing the back of her knuckles, threading their fingers. He pulls her closer to him and puts his arm around Gemma’s shoulder, who pushes it off but still smiles. “Really, all of you, I am good.”

“Not ‘fine’?” Liam says, winking at him from where he’s settled in the armchair, leaning forward and hands clasped between his knees.

“Listen here, boy, I will smack you.” Louis glares playfully at him, drawing soft laughs from the boys and giggles from the girls. “I knew corrupting you was a bad idea.”

They stay awake talking until one by one, they fall asleep where they sit.

\--

With the New Year comes a New Louis – complete with Capitals. Life feels like it begins again. He’s, maybe not happy, but definitely more content with the way things are. He wakes up at a decent time after having a good night’s sleep and makes everyone breakfast. The ones that are left anyway.

His Mum and Lottie went home the week following New Year but not before promising to call his Mum if he needed anything (“anything Louis. I don’t care if it’s 2am or there’s six-feet of snow outside. You call me and I will drive down here. I am not going through this again”). Zayn leaves not long after, needing to get back to London for some reason that he doesn’t say, nor does Louis ask. When Louis asked Gemma how long she’s staying for she waved him off again, not even answering him and going back to typing on her phone.

Pancakes and coffee ready Louis takes it over to the dining table to join the rest of the spread, finishing setting up just as Niall pokes his head into the room.

He’s still in his pyjamas, hair a ruffled mess, more brown than blonde now, and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He shuffles over to the coffee pot and pours himself a drink. Taking a scolding sip, Niall puts the mug on the surface and rounds the table. He pulls Louis into a sleepy hug and places a smacking kiss on his cheek.

“Morning sunshine,” he grumbles, going back to his spot and taking a seat.

“Hi Nialler. Sleep well?”

“Like a log. I have no idea what time I got off Skype last night but I guess the sun was coming up.”

“Yeah? Songwriting sesh with Julian went well then?” Louis fills a plate up with eggs, bacon and pancakes and puts it in front of Niall before filling his own plate and sitting next to him.

Ever since Christmas he started to actively take an interest in his friends again, apprehensive of the fact that they know everything that he’s been doing but Louis knows nothing in return. They all assured him that they weren’t holding it against him, but still, he likes hearing about what they have going on.

“Really well. Hoping to have enough to release an EP later in the year. Just need to find me a record label and distributor.” Louis drops his fork to the table, making Niall look up from his plate and quirk his eyebrow at the noise. “Yes, Lou?”

“Have you completely lost your mind? I would love to help you release your EP.”

Niall chuckles at him but Louis doesn’t know what’s so funny.

“I know that, love, but I figured you’d got enough on your plate at the mo. Didn’t want to bother you. Besides, you haven’t been in London in so long. Who the hell is running it?”

“There’s a team. I hand-picked them all. They’re very good. But that’s beside the point. I can do it. I want to do this. I want to help you. God knows, you lot have helped me enough in the last few months. Let me give something back. I’m starting to think these friendships are one-sided.”

Louis folds his arms across this chest and leans back in his seat. He attempts to give Niall his best ‘you know I’m right’ look but has no idea if it works because just as Niall goes reply Liam raps his hand at the doorframe and pops his head in.

“Am I allowed to interrupt, gentlemen? I smell breakfast.”

Louis stands from his seat. He fixes Niall with a look and says, “This isn’t over, Horan.” Niall lifts his fork in a salute and goes back to eating. “Yes, Liam. Tea? Coffee?” He makes his way back over to the kettle and fixes Liam a coffee when he replies. He takes it over to the spot at the table Liam has claimed and pats him on the shoulder before going back to his seat. “Did you know our mate Niall here is releasing an album?”

“EP,” Niall corrects around a mouthful of eggs.

“Manners, Niallator. No talking with food in your mouth.” He pats Niall cheek condescendingly. “But yes, did you know?”

Liam brings his loaded plate back to himself from where he’s been filling it up and picks up a scrap of bacon with his fingers.

“Yeah, I did. From what I’ve heard so far, it’s wicked. Found a label yet, mate?” Liam asks Niall, taking a bite of his bacon before picking up his fork.

Louis throws his hands up in the air. “Did everyone know except me?” He can feel his face flushing in exasperation.

Why have his friends kept things from him? He knows he hasn’t exactly been in the right headspace lately but did they not think he’d be happy for them? His life might have gone to shit but he’d have still loved to hear how they were all doing.

“We didn’t want to bother you, Lou,” Liam responds, shrugging a shoulder as if it’s nothing.

“But I want to know these things. How about you, Liam? You got any solo work coming out I should know about? A new girlfriend? New pet? Come on, give me something. I feel like such a jerk.”

“Hey now. We didn’t _not_ tell you. It just wasn’t important considering the circumstances. But no, no solo work. No girl, no pet. Now, eat your breakfast. It’s getting cold.”

Niall snickers around the lip of his mug at the indignant scoff Louis gives Liam but picks his fork up anyway. He knows not to argue with Liam when he goes all mother-hen.

\--

Later that day finds the remaining boys sat on the sofa, crowded around Niall’s laptop as he shows them what he’s been working on. Louis sits with his back pressed against the arm, legs drawn up to his chest as he listens to Niall explaining to Liam the angle he’s going for with one of the tracks. There’s a rustling noise from over the laptop’s speaker as Julian, who’s patched in via Skype, messes with something his end.

“Yeah, I didn’t want it to sound like something One Direction would have released, you know? I wanted it to be my own. But like, this bridge sounds just too…pop to me. Too much bubble-gum pop. Makes my teeth ache when I try to sing it.”

Liam hums from next to him and points at something on the screen. “Yeah, this here sounds just a bit…”

Louis zones out then, content to let them talk, knowing he isn’t expected to have much of an input. He thinks they’re just happy he’s there to be honest. Niall keeps reaching over to pat his foot where it’s tucked under his thigh and Liam throws him a smile every now and again but Louis is much more interested in the conversation he can hear going on in the other room.

Ever since Gemma appeared after lunch, she’s been shut up in the kitchen on her phone. He has no idea who she’s talking to but at some point it must get quite heated as he can hear her pacing the length of the room, voice coming closer and closer until it starts to fade away. Snippets of what she says float over his ears but as he’s not intending to eavesdrop he tries not to focus on the words but it’s hard when he hears his name said far too many times in quick succession for it to mean ‘yeah, I’m still at Louis’’ and not ‘I’m talking about Louis behind his back and I don’t want him to hear’.

Finally deciding it’s time to find out what is going on, he unfolds himself from the sofa. “I’m going to get a drink. You lads want anything?”

When Liam and Niall both reply ‘yes please’ he edges slowly to the kitchen door that’s been pushed to but not closed.

Hiding in the shadows, he can make out the side profile of Gemma as she’s sat at the table, head in her hands and hair falling forward so he can’t make out her face. From the set of her shoulders and the rigidness to her position whoever’s on the phone is causing her to be tense and he’s about ready to knock when she finally replies to something that’s said and he freezes.

“No, no. You do not get to lecture me about this, H. You have no idea what it’s been like for him the last couple of years,” she pauses for the response, “No, that is not fair, Harry! You know as well as I do, you would have been eaten alive had you come out. He was just trying to protect you and you left him. He loved you with everything he had. Everybody could see that” _pause_ “No I am _not_ giving you his number, you are not having his address. I am not even going to tell him we are having this conversation. You might be my little brother, H, but you are one-prized prat for running away from Louis. I don’t know if _I’m_ ready to forgive you for it yet, so I have no idea if Louis wants to see you ever again” _pause_ “Yeah, H, it’s been bad. If he wants to talk to you, and I won’t blame him if he never does, it will be on his terms and only his. Not so you can appease whatever guilty conscious you’ve grown in the last 2-bloody-years” _pause_ “Yeah, whatever, go do whatever you need to do. I love you too. Bye.”

Gemma hangs up the phone and drops it on the table without ceremony. He sees her lift her hands and rub them over her face before pushing her hair back behind her ears, turning to get up from the table which is when he knows he’s been caught. Her eyes flick up to his and she stops, like a deer caught in headlights, and groans.

“Why are you spying on me?” She marches towards to door and pulls it open. The entrance is flooded with light and Louis blinks a few times before realising his hand is still raised to knock. He drops it to his side sheepishly.

Clearing his throat, he tries to speak but nothing comes out. He holds a finger up to Gemma asking her silently to wait a second. He makes his way to the sink, grabs an empty glass off the side and fills it up with water. Once he’s taken a sip he tries to speak again and is pleased when “I wasn’t spying” comes out, not a croak in sight.

“Well, I applaud your impersonation of a mime then. How much did you hear?” She goes back to her seat at the table. Louis admires her for not hiding the fact she was talking about him. He’s had enough of people tiptoeing round him.

Wow, how ungrateful I sound, he thinks, shaking his head at himself.

“Enough.” Louis shrugs his shoulders and runs his fingers across the surface of the table. “He called you?”

“Yes, he did. He was worried still. --Not that he has a right to be, of course.” Gemma throws her hands up in front of her when he goes to interrupt and effectively stops him before he opens his mouth. “I told him this.”

“What does he want?”

“He didn’t say. I didn’t ask. I told him no when he asked for your number but I know it isn’t my place to answer for you. And despite what you overheard, I think he genuinely wants to see you again. Not to make himself feel better either but because…” She pauses to run her hands through her hair and looks even more troubled as she speaks again that Louis grabs her hand and laces their fingers together. “He misses you Lou. And I think you miss him too. Don’t you think the reason you haven’t been able to get over him is because you don’t want to get over him?”

“I don’t really have a choice though, do I? Isn’t he engaged to someone else? He got over me easily enough. I mean, it’s been just over two years now and he’s already engaged. They must have gotten serious pretty fast if they’re already at that step.” Louis shrugs again, completely at a loss as to what to say next.

How is he supposed to explain how he feels about that? He hasn’t really given himself time to let it sink in and it’s not something he really wants to focus on. If his ex wants to marry someone else, so be it.

“Louis, I don’t know what kind of relationship they have, but I know whatever it is, this Matthew guy does not even hold a candle to you. I am fairly certain that Harry would only have to look at you to know he’s going to make the biggest mistake ever. Even bigger than letting you go.”

Louis takes a deep breath as Gemma finishes and looks down at their joined hands as he attempts to put what he’s thinking into manageable sentences.

Does all this mean Harry still loves him? Because he doesn’t think he could handle seeing Harry again if he’s just going to go off and marry someone else in the end.

Or is he just hoping for the best when she says what he thinks she’s saying? Is Harry’s relationship not all it’s cracked up to be? Is it possible that Harry’s just settling for someone else? Someone who isn’t Louis?

Before he can put his thoughts into some order, Niall calls him from the living room.

“Do you need some help, Lou?”

He jolts up from the table, dropping Gemma’s hands and goes to fridge, pulling the door open and fussing with contents, not really knowing what he’s looking for as the drinks are kept in a cupboard the other side of the kitchen.

“Lou?” Gemma asks from over his shoulder.

With a great sigh, he turns on the spot to face her and seeing the badly concealed hope in her eyes makes him squirm. He has no idea what to do. He wants to say yes and jump on a plane or in a car and go see him, wherever he is, but at the same time, he’s only just been able to think about him without falling to pieces.

What if he gets there and all Harry really wants to do is make amends and send him on his way? Can he really risk it? Harry is obviously happy enough that he said yes to a proposal.

“I don’t know if I can deal with seeing him, Gem. Not yet at least.”

He can see the hope flicker and die but it’s replaced with acceptance of his response so he knows she isn’t mad. Louis pulls her into his arms for a hug and kisses her cheek.

Gemma pulls back long enough to smile at him before making her way over to where he actually keeps the soft-drinks.

“That’s fine, Lou. I told you it was completely your choice. Don’t force yourself into something you aren’t sure if you’re ready for. He can wait. Anyway, you are currently shacking up with the best Styles sibling so it’s not like you’re really missing out.”

She grabs a few cans of Coke and bumps him with her hip on her way out of the kitchen, making him chuckle and chase after her.

\--

Before Louis knows it, January quickly draws to a close and February starts with a bang. The days are longer, the sun shines brighter and he’s beginning to feel more like himself again.

Since the start of the year he’s been getting more involved with his company; listening to demo and studio tracks, helping out with stubborn song lyrics, giving his opinion on album covers and song titles. He loves every second of it.

He loves that he can take someone else’s dream and turn it into reality for them just like Simon did for him all those years ago. In the last week alone he has signed a girl band and two soloists; one of whom is already in the studio recording a few tracks.

As well as all that he’s been helping Niall get his EP off the ground. They’ve done all they can away from a studio though, and Louis faces himself making a choice the second week in February. It isn’t a hard decision, however, as he knows he’s ready.

The sun’s starting to set one afternoon as the four of them laze on the patio furniture out back, full from dinner that Gemma cooked and sharing a bottle of wine between them – Louis allowing himself one small glass but no more than that.

Liam and Gemma share the swing, blankets tucked over their legs to fight off the winter chill that’s creeping in the lower the sun gets. They’ve been talking quietly for the last ten minutes, heads bowed together and space between them shrinking every time Gemma leans forward to get her wine glass off the table. Gemma eyes twinkle every time she looks at Liam and Liam seems completely oblivious. Niall strums his guitar from his position on the floor, filling the silence with a pretty tune he’s making up on the spot, eyes closed and head tilted back. He looks so relaxed Louis wouldn’t be surprised if he falls asleep there.

Louis is curled up on the lounger, trying to collect his thoughts enough to be able to voice them out loud.

It’s not that he’s scared about returning to London; he is looking forward to returning to hustle and bustle of the city as fast as possible, but he is definitely worried about the possibility of bumping into Harry. Even though their lives have taken different paths, old habits die hard and they still know some of the same people, will probably still go to the same clubs, same award shows, same shops.

He pulls himself out of his head to see everyone looking at him curiously.

Sitting up and leaning forward to address the others, arms balanced on his knees and hands clenched together to stop them trembling, Louis opens his mouth to speak but when no words come out, he slams his lips together and growls in frustration instead.

Niall shuffles over to him on all fours and settles by his feet. He lifts a callused hand up and rests it on Louis’ knee and nods.

It gives Louis the courage to say, “I want to go home.” He smiles sheepishly up at the others and chuckles at himself for being so worried about what they’d say. Niall and Liam had already been talking about going back to London and he knows Gemma has needed to go back for a while now even if she steadfastly refused to leave.

“Home? Doncaster or London?” Liam asks, placing his empty wine glass on the table and standing up to come over to him, sitting on the edge of the lounger. He puts his hand on Louis forearm and squeezes gently.

“London. I need to go back. I need to get my life back again. I’m ready. I mean,” he lifts his free hand up to rub self-consciously at the back of his neck, “I think I’m ready. But regardless, I can’t run the label anymore without actually being there. And we need to go back to sort your EP out Niall. We can’t do anymore from here. There’s recording to do, mixing and promo work. Let alone all the paperwork that goes with it.”

“Are you sure?” Gemma asks, still sitting on the swing. She pushed the blankets into the spot Liam has freed up and is leaning towards them all. “It’s great if you are, but are you one-hundred percent sure?”

“Yeah, I am. I need to do something. This place has been great at helping me sort myself out; the peace and quiet has been amazing and I can’t thank you guys enough for staying with me but I can’t ask you to stay any longer. And I really do need to get back to the office.”

No one mentions the possibility of seeing Harry when they eventually end up in the same place and he’s thankful for that. It might be reason enough to change his mind about going back.

“That’s great, Lou. When were you thinking?” Niall pats him on the shoulder and goes back to where he left his guitar.

“Well, I need to sell this place and find somewhere to stay in London. I sold my flat before I came here. And I need to say bye to everyone; to Frank, Diane and Matt, at least.”

“You can stay with me until you find somewhere,” Liam says. He picks up the empty wine glasses and makes his way into the house. Louis, Gemma and Niall follow and take a seat at the kitchen table. “I have a spare room and it would be great to live together again, Louis.”

“That would be great, thanks, Leemo. Sure you aren’t sick of me yet?” he jokes happily, glad he has such supportive friends. He honestly can’t thank them enough and knows he needs to make it up to them. They all literally dropped everything for him, including Gemma, who he never thought he’d see again.

Liam laughs at him. “Nah, man, I’ll never get sick of you. Besides, I went two years without seeing you. I think absence definitely made the heart grow stronger.”

It’s Gemma’s turn to laugh. “It’s ‘fonder’, Liam, not ‘stronger’. But I agree. I should’ve made more of an effort to stay in touch. I won’t make that same mistake again. My door is always open if you need me.” Louis reaches over to hug Gemma to him, patting her head, condescendingly.

“Aw, Gem, are you going soft?”

She swots and scowls at him. “I’ll show you bloody soft!”

They end up play-fighting; Louis chasing Gemma around the house, with Liam and Niall howling with laughter at the kitchen table when it ends up Gemma kneeling atop Louis in victory, arm twisted behind his back, swearing viciously and threatening all manner of bodily-harm when she finally lets him up. Of course, he’d never follow through and they all end up cuddled up on the sofa watching the second Avengers film, throwing popcorn at the screen when Ultron appears and laughing until their stomach’s ache.

\--

It’s not long before the house is sold (apparently there isn’t a shortage of people looking for a quiet life), and Louis finishes packing the last few months of his life into boxes. Liam has already gone back to London to get the spare room ready for him; car weighed down with boxes of things he won’t need before he gets there.

Taking one last look around his bedroom to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything, he tapes up the box and sits down at the end of the bed.

Louis will miss this place. It has become a safe-haven for him; a bubble outside of everything. He’s broken down completely in this house so really it should hold bad memories for him, but it’s also where he pulled himself back together; where he weathered the storm and came out the other side - maybe not stronger than ever, maybe not exactly the same person he was before, but he definitely has a newfound appreciation for everything he has and the person he has become. It’s brought his ex-bandmates back to him; his brothers-in-arms, and reconnected him with Gemma (and Anne via facetime).

He stands up and walks over to the window to look at the view. Living in London, he never really had the chance to sit and stare at the landscape but the countryside really is beautiful. The sun is high up in the sky and, even though it’s not even spring yet, the flowers are starting to bloom in the fields surrounding his own little island and the birds are chirping in the trees.

A crash sounds from outside followed by bellowing laughter, bringing his attention to the driveway below the window Louis is standing in front of. He opens it up and sticks his head out to see Niall kneeling on the floor, wiping his eyes, and Gemma doubled over, one arm clutching her stomach and the other over her mouth. There are white shards scattered everywhere.

“What the hell are you two doing?” he shouts down, chuckles bubbling in his throat at his friends laughing so hard.

“Nothing, nothing. But Niall might, or might not have, dropped a box of plates when he tripped over his own feet,” Gemma answers, wiping furiously at her own eyes to stem the flow of tears.

“I’m so sorry, Lou,” Niall gets out between his own bouts of laughter. “I’ll replace it all, I swear.”

“No harm done, mate. As long as you’re okay. I’m coming down. I’ll help you clean it up.”

He shuts and locks the windows, pulling the blind down. Picking up the box, he smiles as he closes the door behind him.

\--

Pulling up in front of Diane’s house, Louis puts his car in neutral and kills the engine. The curtains in the living room twitch once and, almost simultaneously, the front door opens and Matt comes flying out to meet him at the driver’s door.

Getting out and closing the door behind him, he puts his arm around Matt’s shoulders and guides him back up towards the house where Diane is waiting in the doorway. She has a smile on her face as she greets him but the corners are the slightest bit downturned and it doesn’t reach her eyes like it normally does. In lieu of saying “hello” he wraps his arms around her for a hug.

“I’m sorry,” she says, only just loud enough to reach his ears. “I know you’re not my son so I shouldn’t lecture you but I’m just sad to see you leave.”

It was only when he’d make all the plans to leave and set the ball rolling with selling the house that he told Diane he was moving back to London. It wasn’t that he was putting off telling her, but he really didn’t know how to start that conversation with the woman who has essentially become a second Mum to him (or a third if you counted Anne).

Gemma suggested inviting her and Matt around for tea and easing them into the idea of it but as soon as he opened up the front door and saw Diane’s smiling face, he blurted out “I’m going back to London.”

He’d never wanted to punch himself so hard in the face when he saw tears well up in Matt’s eyes. He hadn’t meant to slip it out so carelessly but the guilt had already been eating him up inside for so long that he nearly talked himself into sending them a postcard from London before Gemma slapped him round the back of the head and told him to man up.

Of course Diane was not happy at all about it. She had argued with him till she was nearly blue in the face. “It’s only been two months since you got out of the hospital,” “I nearly had a heart attack when I saw you at the side of the road” and “it’s far too soon for you to be even thinking about going back to London.”

Once she’d grown silent and Matt had remerged from the bathroom where he’d been hiding since they’d got there, Diane had made their excuses and left, not once looking back.

It’s been three weeks since then and Louis has been too much of a coward to reach out to either of them but he knows it was only fair to say goodbye in person and not have that conversation be the last between them. He doesn’t think he’ll forget seeing Matt’s tear-stained face any time soon as it is.

Diane pulls away from the hug and brings him into the house. Matt shuts the door silently behind them and threads his fingers through Louis as they make their way into the living room. They all sit down on the sofa; Louis between the mother and son. He takes one of each of their hands in his and they sit silent for a moment, no one knowing quite what to say next.

Louis occupies himself with looking around the room. All of Diane’s furniture is mismatched and sorry looking. The arms of the chair in the corner are worn out as is the sofa they are sitting on, and the rug in front of the fire is threadbare and holey in places. He’s offered on many occasions to replace it for her as she’s spent so much on keeping him fed and alive but she point blank refuses each time.

Picking his eyes up off the floor he looks up at the photos on the mantelpiece above the open fire. There are many of Matt growing up. Giggling in his bouncer when he was a toddler. Grinning up at the camera when he was eight; there’s a hole in his smile where his front teeth had fallen out. One of his first day at secondary school, looking smart in his tie and blazer. A newer one of all of them, taken by Frank two weeks after he had moved to the village.

It was the first of the village’s summer fetes; held along the main road where all the shops are. Diane had talked him into attending when he’d helped Matt when he first arrived.

The weather had been hot and bright that day. He remembers sweating buckets manning the stall Diane has set up to sell pastries on. Matt kept bringing him cold glasses of lemonade from the back of the shop and by the end of the day his nose was sunburnt but not once did he feel like an outsider.

Not once did he feel like a washed-up popstar with a failed relationship behind him. He was normal and anonymous and it had felt wonderful.

Frank had cornered them when they were packing up the stall as the sun was going down, camera in his hand. At first he had said no, but Matt had looked at him with puppy-dog eyes and Diane had bundled him up against her side so fast that he quickly acquiesced and squinted up into the sun as the shutter clicked.

He has a copy of it as his phone background.

“So, when are you leaving?” Matt asks quietly.

Louis clears his throat and squeezes Diane’s hand. She squeezes back and nods at him.

“Er, now. I mean, like right after this. I’m on my way to the Estate Agents to drop the keys off and then I’m on my way.” He bumps his shoulder against Matt’s and tries to give him a reassuring smile when Matt looks up at him but he thinks he fails spectacularly when Matt nods sadly. Matt drops his head onto Louis’ shoulder and Louis drops a kiss onto the top of it. “But you are more than welcome to come stay with me whenever you are on break from school; you and your Mum, and you can text or call me whenever you want, day or night, buddy. Or I can come visit you. I am only going back to London, Matty. I am not leaving _you_ ,” he stresses, panicking slightly at the thought of upsetting Matt.

He remembers what it was like leaving his sister’s for the X Factor all that time ago and his heart aches thinking about Matt going through that too.

Diane sniffles from her place next to him and moves to stand from her seat. “Are you leaving right this second or do you have time for some lunch before you go? I baked Cornish pasties earlier.” He smiles up at her when she winks at him and chuckles wetly when Matt jumps up from his spot and runs into the kitchen.

“There’s always time for pasties, Di.”

She reaches out her hand to him and wiggles her fingers. Louis grasps it and lets himself be led through the house.

\--

With tentative plans for Matt to stay with Louis during his two week Easter holiday from school and after he drops his keys off at the Estate Agents on his way through town, Louis makes a quick stop at Mason’s to thank Frank for all he has done for Louis during his time in the village.

Two hours later, with a bag of snacks and drinks for the drive to London which Frank would not take payment for no matter how much Louis protested, he’s on one of the main A-roads heading east towards London.

The sun is blazing high in the sky and the roads are mostly quiet. He has his sun-visor down, the windows open and his sunglasses perched on his nose. Playing over the speakers is the playlist Niall emailed to him the previous evening.

Louis feels as light as a feather. On a straight stretch of road he puts his arm out the window and feels the rush of wind sweep over it, goose bumps raising as it’s still not the middle of summer, even though you could be forgiven for thinking it was.

When he’s about an hour away from joining the M25 that circles London he sets his sat-nav to guide him to the nearest McDonalds so he can use the bathroom. Louis knows he’s made good time getting to where he has but it’s going to take twice as long to actually get into London and he desperately needs to stretch his legs or they’re going to fall asleep while he’s driving. The last thing he needs is to crash.

He pulls into the carpark of the restaurant and parks as close to the exit as he can. It’s been a long time since Louis has been around people that could recognise him and he might need to escape quickly if it comes to it. Alberto has already made him promise to call when he gets into London and he’ll come meet him and follow him in to make sure he’s not bothered. Louis had rolled his eyes but deemed it not worth the argument.

After making quick use of the amenities, Louis approaches the counter with caution. The girl who is stood at the till looks to be about the age their fans used to be or would be now, at least.

He can tell the exact moment she recognises him but she quickly schools her expression into one of complete professionalism. Louis smiles at her gratefully, glancing to the corner of the room where a large-ish group of girls are giggling away (he sees the flash of a camera but tries to ignore it) and places his order, stressing it’s to takeaway to which she nods understandingly.

“If you’d like, Mr Tomlinson, you can return to your vehicle and I can bring it out to you,” she says as she hands him his change.

“I can wait.” He throws her a reassuring smile and steps to the side. He leans his hip against the counter and pulls out his phone. By the time he’s text Liam back with an estimated time of arrival and replied to a couple of emails regarding problems with a track from one of his new artists, his food bag is being placed on the counter.

Louis picks it up, starting to say thank you, but the girl reaches a hand out nervously, quickly pulling it back to stick her thumb in her mouth, biting the edge of her nail.

“Yes, love?” he asks, expecting to be asked for a photo or an autograph as fans are wont to do, even so long after.

“Can I just say thank you? Er, you guys were around when I was going through some stuff at school and college and you helped me through a lot of it and I made some great friends, who I still see now, through listening to your stuff and following you on Twitter. So I guess, just thanks. And I’m glad to see you’re doing better after all that stuff with the hospital at Christmas?” (Of course his hospital stay had made the front of the newspapers.) She, _Kayleigh_ her name badge says, blushes furiously as she finishes and reaches to adjust her cap. He spots that her hand is trembling and her thumb is bleeding slightly from where she’s bitten it, which she groans at. “Shit, I need a plaster now. But yeah, I don’t know what you’re doing now or where you’re going but, just, good luck with everything, I guess.”

“Thank you, Kayleigh.”

Louis drops his bag back onto the counter and reaches across it to grab one of the sheets of paper they use to line the eat-in trays with. He flips it over and pats himself down, looking for a pen. One appears next to his hand on the counter. When he looks up to thank her again, she’s studiously examining her fingers.

Smiling to himself, he signs the paper ‘ _thank you for being one of our best fans, Kayleigh. Love, Louis x_ ’ drawing a smiley face and hands both the paper and the pen back to her. Giving a quick salute, he grabs the bag and makes his way back to the door, chuckling quietly at the squeal of delight he hears behind him. A warm, fuzzy feeling spreads through his limbs at having made someone happy.

He loves hearing from fans how their music has helped them. It was one of his favourite parts of the job. Getting to see the changes they have been able to make to people’s lives. Whether it’s helping friends come together, or making someone feel appreciated, or being able to donate to charities that meant something to them.

When Louis gets back in the car, stereo automatically switching on to blast out the last song he was listening to, he pulls his phone out his back pocket and reactivates his Twitter account.

Already a photo of the message he’s just wrote is all over his mentions and when he finds the original post, he checks the profile to make sure he’s found the right person before clicking the ‘follow’ button. He can just imagine Kayleigh is going absolutely nuts right about now and it makes him stupidly happy.

(And if he drives slowly past the restaurant to see her reaction then nobody needs to know.)

\--

Louis has been living back in London for a month when the lads decide a night out is overdue. He thinks he’s done quite well to avoid leaving the flat unnecessarily up until now, placating Liam with excuses about working late in the office or record studio.

Granted, the first couple of weeks were spent settling in, both in the flat and at the label so they weren’t really excuses, but when the final box was unpacked and the label running as smooth as clockwork (his team really are the best), the excuses kept on coming.

He’s not regretting being back here; everyone he has encountered, fan or otherwise, have generally been nice. No one has made any derogatory comments. There haven’t been any malicious tweets (other than the usual) or dodgy news articles about him. The fans he’s bumped in to have all said how happy they are to see him back in London and have mentioned how well he looks. Louis thinks it could’ve been much worse.

When he woke up the second week to Twitter notifications about Harry being in London, Louis decided the best course of action was avoidance at all costs. Which meant leaving the flat early and returning stupidly late (often when Liam was already in bed).

There had been no trips to any shops or clubs or any of the old places they used to haunt back in the day when the band (and he and Harry) were still together, which has been fine because the last thing Louis wants is a unexpected meeting in some dark room somewhere where Louis hasn’t had at least a year to prepare.

That all goes to hell though, when on a Thursday morning, just as he’s sneaking across the landing towards the kitchen for his morning cup of tea, the master bedroom door swings open to reveal a fully-dressed Liam. He has his hands in the pockets of his jeans, coat on and zipped up, trainers firmly tied and wearing the most determined expression Louis has ever seen on his face.

“Morning Louis. Sneaking out again?” Liam asks him. He doesn’t sound angry, quite the opposite in fact. But he says it so matter-of-fact that Louis cringes.

Louis drops his head to his chest and sighs. Avoiding the question, he tries, “Morning Li. Just off to get a start on some promo work for Nialler,” but when he gets a quirked eyebrow and a snort back he mumbles, “Yes, I was.”

“Why? Look I get that it’s probably overwhelming being back here but working yourself to the bone is not the answer.” Liam walks over to him and lifts his hands to place on Louis’ shoulders. He stoops down slightly so he can look Louis in the eye. “I’m worried about you. We all are. And I know there isn’t any promo work left to do for Niall. We went out for celebratory drinks last night. We did text you to invite you but you never answered.” Liam sighs when Louis just shrugs. “Do you regret coming back?”

“No, no, not at all, but like…” Louis needs to get that idea right out of Liam’s head before he starts to think Louis isn’t grateful for him opening his home to him.

Waving his arm about, trying to find something to say, Liam speaks up first.

“Is it Harry? I know you don’t want to see him but I heard he’s gone back to LA so you don’t have to worry about bumping into him in the streets if that’s what has got you so on edge lately.”

Sighing in relief, which earns him an eye roll and pat on the shoulder, he figures there’s really no getting out of a lads night out anymore, not when Liam looks two-seconds away from escorting him to work so he can’t get away afterwards.

Which is why he finds himself turning off his computer and locking up his office at exactly five o’clock. On his way down to the exit he pats himself down, checking he’s got his phone and wallet (and dignity) and when he pulls open the door, he groans.

Waiting at the side of the road is a black town car, whose driver is currently standing in front of the rear door, sign in hand reading ‘The Tommo’ in Niall’s handwriting. He’d feel indignant about the fact his friends don’t trust him to not run, but honestly, they obviously know him far too well as the thought has crossed his mind several times in the last few hours.

After a short drive, he’s dropped off at a restaurant just outside of Brixton. The place must be new as Louis has been to most (if not all) of the restaurants here throughout the seven years he’s been living in the area. But he always forgets how quick life moves on in London.

Louis walks up to the main doors of the restaurant, looking at the green shrubs with pink flowers in their square pots either side of the glass doors. The building is quite nondescript, but as his eyes roam over the exterior he looks up and freezes. He blinks dumbly at the sign above the door.

It’s a big flashing thing; green and blue split down the middle in Harry’s handwriting, if he isn’t mistaken. ‘Louis’’ it reads and if Louis wasn’t so surprised he’d probably laugh.

As it slowly sinks in what he’s staring at, his surprise is quickly being replaced by anger so intense he can feel his face turning red.

If he was less in control of his temper he’d punch the pap who has been taking photos of him incessantly since he got out of the car. Instead he takes a deep breath, pastes the fakest smile he can muster on his face and pushes his way into the building with a purpose.

If the door happens to bounce off the wall, so be it.

His ire simmers below the surface as he makes his way down a short corridor and into the main room. The first thing he notices is how incredibly quiet it is. But as he takes in the room as a whole he realises it’s unfinished.

There are plastic dust sheets pushed hastily into the corner of the room out of the way. On the opposite side there are a couple of ladders and workbenches, and there are at least a dozen paint tins scattered around the room haphazardly. The floor is half concrete and half tiled. Along the back wall appears to be what he thinks will be the bar under a white sheet and next to it is a grey door that must lead into the kitchen. The circular window is lit up, casting a ring of light onto the floor in front of it.

He advances further, shoes rasping harshly against the bare floor and makes his way to the centre of the room where a lone table is set up. It’s nothing special; a fold up metal picnic table with wooden crates for chairs. On top of the table rests a tea pot and two mugs.

As Louis turns back to look at the side of the room he just came through, the kitchen door creaks open and he pauses with his back to it.

He doesn’t even need to turn around to know who’s there. He can feel it in his bones and in the way his heart starts beating fast. Concentrating on his shadow on the floor, Louis tries to calm the tremble in his body enough to say “you named it after me?” between one breath and the next, voice as shaky as his hands.

“Yes,” is the only word uttered back, so softly Louis almost doesn’t hear it.

“Why?”

“Because I said I would.”

It’s said so simply it takes Louis’ breath away. Like it was an everyday occurrence; someone buying a restaurant and naming it after someone else. Some grand romantic gesture that has no place in their current relationship, if you could even call it that.

For the last two years they’ve been strangers, once-upon-a-time friends-slash-lovers that talked about what they wanted to do if or when they called time on the band. Harry had always wanted to open a restaurant.

 _Nothing fancy_ , he had said, tucked up in their bunks on the bus sometime during the Take Me Home tour. Wanted to open somewhere friends could go to after work, or before a night out, or families to meet up on weekends. Somewhere safe for everybody. _Nothing too expensive_ , he’d stressed, _I don’t want to take money off people who can’t really afford it_. “I would name it Louis’ or something like that,” Harry had said, blush high on his cheeks.

So here they were; One Direction has ended and Harry has bought a restaurant, just like he said he would.

“You left me.”

The surprise has melted away, replaced with a white, hot fury that is surging through his system. The blood in his veins is rushing round and round. His head swims and vision blurs. The shake in his hands trebles, and before he knows it, Louis has Harry pushed up against the covered bar. His arm is braced against Harry’s chest; Harry forced to lean back over the bar to ease some of the pressure. Louis lets his eyes rove over Harry, taking in the broad shoulders, long, lean body and finally his face.

Louis realises how close they are when he sees Harry’s eyes blown wide with arousal and a flush sits high in his cheeks. He drops his arm like he’s been burned and practically flies to the other side of the room. Harry coughs and rubs his hand across his chest.

“I’m-... I’m sorry. I didn’t- I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No. No, you’re right. I did leave you, but there’s not a second that goes by that I wish I hadn’t.”

It’s so frank how Harry says that, so honest it makes Louis drop his head and try to fight off the lump in the back of his throat. The last thing this needs is tears, Louis thinks, he’s cried far too much over Harry Styles in the last two years. He doesn’t deserve anymore.

Like a tidal wave though the fury makes a reappearance as quick as the sadness had.

“So what, Harry?” Louis throws his hands up in frustration; straining his voice to be heard above the thumping in his chest. “You left me a note! A stupid, fucking note on our bed! You didn’t even have the guts to break up with me face-to-face. What happened? Did I walk out the door and you calmly packed up your things, emptied the fridge, and then left?” His face feels heavy and swollen with anger. His cheeks burn and he’s sure that by the end he was spitting with every word.

Harry shakes his head so fast that Louis’ surprised it hasn’t flown off into an open paint tin on the other side of the room. He’s got his hands up in front of him in surrender, or to ward off Louis’ anger, but Louis isn’t making the mistake of getting close to him again. He’s fine where he is; braced against the wall and he’s never hoped for the ability to walk through walls like that girl in X-Men more than he is now.

Louis wants nothing more than to walk out, but he wants answers and now he’s in the room with Harry, after being tricked by his friends, he’s damn well going to get them. His ‘friends’ better be on a plane to Madagascar by now or he’s going to hunt them down.

“THEN WHAT?” Louis shouts. His voice echoes around the bare room and he sees Harry flinch back.

“It wasn’t like that. I didn’t decide on a whim. It had been building up for a while. I knew you’d never be ready to come out. And I was getting fed up with waiting. I wanted to be me in public; in every way. I wanted to be able to walk down the road with you, holding hands. I wanted to be able to go to awards ceremonies and parties with _you_ on my arm.” Harry’s voice chokes and he turns away, hands on his hips so his coat billows out behind him. Louis can see him bring a hand up to his face and wipe it across his eyes. When Harry takes a deep breath and turns back around, emotions on his face for the world to see, eyes red and raw from tears he’s fighting to hold back. “Instead I was living in an apartment that wasn’t even mine.”

“But it was ours.”

“No, it wasn’t Louis, it never was. We may have been there together but it was only ever yours. The lease was under ‘Louis Tomlinson’ not ‘Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles’. I felt like I never belonged there. They concocted some story about me being homeless but really, I felt like I was just keeping your bed warm for you. So when you went I rung my Mum and she said that sometimes the hardest thing to do is walk away from the person you love, but sometimes maybe they just need to be let go. So I let go, Louis. I let you go and if it wasn’t the hardest thing I have ever done. I know I’m a coward and I should’ve told you how I was feeling but I tried and it was harder to hold onto something that didn’t feel real. It never felt real because nobody knew about it other than us and our families. The label would never have let us come out in a million years, but you never tried to fight it. Fake relationships and fake nights out with other people. After a while the stolen moments weren’t enough for me.”

The tears are flowing down Harry’s face now. He’s never been scared about showing how upset he is. Never thought twice about crying at a sad film when they had film nights with the lads. They teased him about it relentlessly, of course, but Harry always laughed it off, shrugging his shoulders and demanding cuddles, of which whoever was closest was only happy to oblige.

But he wasn’t getting cuddles now and there was no way on Earth that Louis was going to take the blame for this.

“You never tried to talk to me, Harry. Never.”

“Yes, I did. About a month before you went to the US. After I had to read about your lunch date with that blonde on Sugarscape, remember?”

“You mean the lunch date that was set up because we went out and we were papped falling out of a club at 4am? It was punishment, remember? I didn’t even want to go!” Louis mocks Harry’s tone and Louis can see the exact moment Harry’s mood changes from upset to pissed off. _Good,_ Louis thinks. A clean break will be so much easier if they were both angry.

"We only went out because you made me. I wanted a night in but everyone voted against me!”

“Look, just because you’d turned into a 50-year-old woman, knitting in your rocking chair when you joined the band doesn’t mean the rest of us have.”

Harry starts pacing where he is. He fists his hands by his side and his back is ramrod straight.

“That’s not the point! The point was I tried to talking you, Louis, but I might as well have been banging my head against a brick wall for all the good it was doing. I tried to talk to you and you told me to go away.”

“I was sorting out the trip! You know that. You helped, for fucks sake!” Louis is seething and he’s shaking so much he wonders if the wall he’s leaning against is too. “What do you want, Harry? Why have I been tricked into coming here? Why did you name a stupid restaurant after me? Why are you here, Harry?”

“Because I miss you, dammit. I fucking miss you. I realised about two hours after I knew you’d got home that I’d made a monumental mistake but I was too scared to take it back. And when no one had heard from you for a while, I sent Liam round and he said you were in bad shape and I thought there was no way in hell you’d ever forgive me, so I didn’t know what to do. And you never tried to get me back, never tried to fight for us, so I thought it was probably a good thing for us then. So I walked away for good.” Louis doesn’t think he’s ever heard Harry talk so fast, in all the years they have known each other and from the looks of it, he won’t ever stop. “But then I heard you were in hospital so I had to come see you…”

“WHAT? You were at the hospital? I didn’t see you- oh,” Louis pauses. A moment passes and everything slots into place. The too-big hands rubbing his back when he’d first woken up. The shadow in the corner. They weren’t dreams. Harry had actually been there. Been there to see him.

Harry stops pacing. He runs a hand through his hair.

“Only for a day. I had things to do in LA but Lottie called me and she was crying so I jumped on a plane. Jay didn’t even shout when she saw me.”

Louis laughs, bright and only slightly hysterical. Harry joins in a moment later. They both laugh so hard when they stop, Louis’ stomach aches and looking at Harry, who is doubled over, they both sober up. The giggles peter off and a silence descends on the room. It’s not awkward. They’ve known each other far too long to be awkward around each other. Despite everything that has past.

“My agent was so mad at me when I got back. It didn’t matter to me. I got back to LA and your Mum refused to answer my calls so I had to get your attention some way.” Harry holds his hands up to show off the room and spins on the spot like he’s some cheesy 90’s gameshow host, a smile bright as the sun on his face. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re crazy. What the hell would your fiancé think?”

“Oh, Matthew. Erm, about that…” He looks ashamed all of a sudden and Louis’ body goes on the defensive again.

“Harry?”

“Let me explain. At the time it was a good idea and I didn’t think I was hurting anyone. I mean, I didn’t think you’d react the way you did,” Harry says, speaking so quickly that his words start to blend together.

Louis stops him before he hurts himself. “Harry, today please.”

Harry sighs. He rubs one of his hands across his forehead and clenches the other one underneath the cuff of his coat; a nervous habit that Louis knows all too well.

“It wasn’t real. None of it. Matt’s agent contacted my new one. He was new in LA and needed the publicity and I wanted to come out. It was a win-win situation at the time.”

“YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!”

This isn’t happening. There is no way in hell. The Harry he knew would never, ever have done that. Louis, yes, but never Harry. He’d always, _always_ , put his foot down. He’d always said no when they were in the band. Agreed to be photographed hugging someone, or walking out of a restaurant, but never, ever a relationship. Harry had always said if he couldn’t be in a public relationship with Louis, he didn’t want to be in a fake one with someone else. He was so adamant and stubborn about it and Louis doesn’t even know what’s real anymore.

Shit, is _this_ a dream? Is Ashton Kutcher going to jump out and say ‘you’ve been Punk’d’? It would be a cruel prank but those words can’t possibly have come from Harry’s mouth.

Louis feels like he’s going to be sick. All the pain he’d gone through at Christmas was unnecessary. The hospital. The alcohol. His mother hovering about like he was going to off himself if she went home. All his friends. His siblings.

Oh god, Gemma. Did she know? Did she know what Harry was doing and came to stay out of pity?

Angry doesn’t even begin to cover how he feels now; like a bomb about to go off, a volcano about to explode.

All the lies. It nearly killed him.

Louis starts pacing and mumbling to himself. He feels crazy with the feelings surging through him. He must look like a madman. Fisting his hands in his hair and tugging. He nearly stumbles over his own feet with how fast he paces from one wall to the other before stopping in the middle and looking at Harry before resuming.

“I’m sorry.”

The sincerity in Harry’s voice makes him stop in his tracks.

The volcano explodes.

“YOU’RE SORRY? YOU, HARRY STYLES, ARE SORRY. WELL, WHOOP-DE-FUCKING-DO. Sorry does _NOT_ fix what you have put me through. I found out in the fucking newspaper. Congratulations, your fake engagement made headlines on Boxing Day. God, I nearly killed myself. My poor Mum. My sisters. What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Playing with people like that? What do you think would have happened had I actually -”

All Louis can see, flashing in front of his face, is the doctor’s telling his Mum he didn’t make it, her collapsing in grief in the middle of the hospital; his sisters all standing in a row, dressed in black at his funeral; Liam, Niall and Zayn breaking down at the news; Harry, the moment he realises what he’s done. It’s all too much.

His arms tingle and his hands feels numb. Louis drops to his knees on the bare floor, not even feeling the pain of landing on concrete. Leaning forward over his arms, he tries to breathe through the nausea rolling through his system. Harry rushes forward and puts his hands on Louis’ shoulders, but Louis pushes him away, scrambling across the concrete to sit against the wall. He feels disgusted with it all, with Harry.

He stays leaning against the wall for a moment, waiting for the room to focus around him before pushing into a standing position, feet struggling to find purchase on the floor beneath him for a second, and he runs. Louis runs out of the restaurant, wrenching the glass door open and taking off down the road.

Louis slows down to a jog when he reaches the corner. He tugs his phone from his pocket and calls Liam with shaking hands. His voice cracks as he greets Liam on the other end and cutting of Liam’s worries, he calmly asks him to come get him.

“Ten minutes, Lou. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Liam promises.

Louis hangs up the phone and forces it back into his pocket. He leans over with his hands on his knees and takes deep breaths. He’s so focused on staying calm and not looking at the off-licence over the road, he doesn’t notice the figure creeping up behind him.

“Louis? Louis, are you okay? Do you need me to call someone?” It’s Harry. Of course, it’s Harry. He can’t leave well enough alone.

It makes Louis laugh incredulously at the nerve Harry has of asking him that question, let alone following him out.

“Am I okay? Am I okay? No, Harry, I am _not_ okay. On what planet do you think I’m okay? You just told me…” he eyes up the pap that is watching them from across the street; he reigns his voice in a little. “…all that and you expect me to be okay with it. Harry, just fuck off. Honestly, just fuck off. I don’t want you anywhere near me. If we weren’t out on the street I’d punch you.”

“It’d be no less than I deserve,” Harry answers. Louis can feel the guilt rolling off Harry in waves.

When they were younger he might have tried to say something comforting but now, he just wants to put as much distance between them as possible. Perhaps he’ll go visit his Mum soon. Doncaster should be plenty of distance.

Before Louis can even think of something to say though, Liam is pulling up next to them on the double-yellow lines and, despite the traffic at that time of night, he opens the car door and runs around to Louis. He looks fraught with worry and Louis can tell from what he’s wearing he’s got out of bed to come get him.

When he gets in front of him, he takes Louis face in his hands and rubs his cheek softly. “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah, no I’m not. Take me home?”

Liam only spots Harry when he turns to put Louis in the car. When Louis is strapped into the passenger seat and the door is closed, Liam turns his back on him. Even through the closed door Louis can tell he’s shouting at Harry. Liam’s arms are gesturing heavily at him but Louis doesn’t care. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the headrest. A minute passes before Liam gets back into the car.

As they’re pulling away, Louis looks back over his shoulder. Harry is standing alone on the corner, tears streaming down his face.

\--

It’s late the next morning when he finally wakes up.

When they got back the night before, Louis told Liam everything Harry had said. He didn’t cry; he thinks by this point he’s all cried out, but the frustration was enough for it to take him a while to explain.

He has never been one for stumbling over his words or struggling to string a sentence together but throughout the last two years, Louis no longer feels like the same person who auditioned for the X Factor all those years ago.

The sun had started rising before Louis had finished. With a few choice swear-words from Liam, and a couple of threats to knock Harry out the next time he saw him, Liam packed him off to bed and told him not to bother with work for a couple of days, that he would keep an eye on things for him.

Throat dry and eyes swollen from sleeping badly, Louis rolls out of bed. He finds a pair of trackies and a hoody of Liam’s folded across the bottom of it and a note on top saying Liam would call him at lunch to check on him. He pulls the hoody over him, thankful for his best friend, and chuckles softly when he sees it’s the one Louis always used to steal when they were touring.

He puts his glasses on, forgoing his contacts as his eyes feel like sandpaper, and makes his way to the kitchen for a cup of tea.

Louis stops in his tracks when he sees Gemma sat at the breakfast bar. She looks like she slept even less than he has. Her hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail and the remnants of eye liner are smudged under her eyes. She’s texting someone on her phone and the glow from the screen makes her face seem a million times paler than she normally is. Louis clears his throat to announce himself.

Slowly, Gemma lowers her phone to the table and looks up at him. Even in the natural light coming through the window, she’s still deathly pale and her eyes are rimmed red as well. Louis can’t bring himself to feel remorseful when he realises where she’s been all night. But maybe something has happened and he swallows past a lump in his throat to ask “is he okay?”

“No. He’s not okay, Louis.”

“Right. Tea?” he asks, making his way to the kettle. He fills it up under the tap when she agrees. Once the cups are made, he places one in front of Gemma and sits on the stool next to her.

He can’t bring himself not to ask. He might hate what Harry has done; he’s angry, really angry at him, feels like if he never sees him again it’ll be too soon, but Louis’ only human. If anything bad actually happened because of what he’d said, he’d never forgive himself. “What, um, what happened?”

“He turned up on my doorstep sometime after one. He’d been crying. Looked like he’d been crying for a while. And he was mumbling something about you. I guess he told you? Anyway, it took me over an hour to get him to calm down; I thought he was going to faint he was crying so heavily.”

“I left him at eight. What was he doing for five hours?” Louis hopes he wasn’t wondering the streets. God knows what would have happened.

He’s so stupid, he thinks. He knows what Harry used to get like when he was overwhelmingly upset. He should’ve called someone when he left.

“He went back to the restaurant, I think. Said something about needing to change the sign. Said he can’t believe he was so stupid to think it would work.”

Louis is confused. Why would naming the restaurant after Louis achieve?

He guesses in some abstract sort of way, it’s kind of sweet, but Harry left him and then lied to him, even if it wasn’t to his face. Harry put him and his family through so much with the stunt he pulled.

Was Harry really so naïve to think that that would fix things? Was Harry really so naïve as to think his actions didn’t have consequences? They should know that better than anybody.

The confusion must show on his face because Gemma throws her hands up in anguish and moves to the other side of the breakfast bar. She braces her arms and looks across at him with such fierceness, like a mother lion protecting her cub.

“He loves you, you dumbass. I know he’s really fucked up but he felt like he didn’t have any other choice. He left because he thought it would be the right thing for you. He jumped into this stunt because it was the safest way for him to come out publicly. I am not doubting that he did it in the most fucked up way possible and he should have _definitely_ told you before he signed up for it. But, Louis…” Gemma looks on the verge of tears herself now. “You didn’t see him last night after you left.”

Louis has no idea what to say to that, he doesn’t think anything he says would fix anything, and he really wants to know when Gemma found out, but he’s saved from speaking when his mobile starts ringing. _Zayn_ flashes up briefly on the screen as he answers. He puts it straight onto speaker phone.

“’sup Zayn? I’m a little bit tied up at the moment,” Louis says, not once taking his eyes off Gemma, who is studiously examining her nails. Her eyes flash up to his face, before dropping back down. Louis frowns.

“Yeah, I know you are,” crackles through the speaker, “I’m with Harry and he’s a mess. What have you said to him?”

“Why am I the one being shouted at here? Harry is the one who fucked up. Not me. Can everyone please try to remember what he put _me_ through?” It takes everything in his to remain calm and not throw his phone at the wall. It’s not fair – why is he being made into the bad guy all of a sudden?

“No one is shouting at you, babe, and I was there when you got out the hospital,” Zayn replies. His tone stops Louis’ protests dead. “But you need to speak to him, please. I can’t get through to him. He’s locked himself in his office and won’t let me in. I can hear him crying. Please, I know he’s messed up, but can you just come down here?”

Louis looks at Gemma, whose eyes are sparkling with unshed tears, but it’s when Zayn whispers “please” once more down the phone that he finally agrees. Zayn doesn’t do scared, or begging, and right now he sounds bloody petrified.

“Oh. Fine. But let it stand on record that I am _not_ forgiving him. At all. I’m still just as mad as I was yesterday.”

“Noted, Lou, now, please get down here,” Zayn says, voice in a hushed whisper as he hangs up the phone.

Ten minutes later, after a super-quick shower and a fresh takeaway brew courtesy of Gemma, Louis is racing down the road towards Harry’s restaurant.

He can’t help but panic. Harry was the love of his life for so long (and he isn’t acknowledging the fact he still might be – no way is he going there) but when Gemma looked at a new text on her phone before Louis left, all the colour drained from her face and he was racing out the door, not even waiting for Gemma to follow him out.

He’s never got across London so fast in all the time he’s been living there. The traffic lights, the pedestrians, other road users; all seem to be on his side right now.

Louis swings into the spot right outside the door. A sheet has been thrown over the ‘Louis’’ sign above the door, but Louis knows it’s still there. Barely remembering to lock the car behind him, he runs up to the glass doors and pauses as he crosses the threshold.

From where he is, he can hear the shouting and the banging from the main room. He can make out Zayn saying “Haz, Haz, please you’re going to hurt yourself” and what sounds like glass being thrown against the wall.

Slowly walking down the corridor towards the noise, Louis takes a moment to look at the photos that have appeared on the walls overnight.

Photos of them. All of them. Photos of the band from their X Factor days, candids from photoshoots, some taken on the sets of their music videos. One stands out.

It’s of Louis from when he was no more than 19; stripy t-shirt and red skinny jeans. He’s sat on a sofa in a green room somewhere with his legs thrown across Harry’s lap. Harry has his eyes closed, head resting on Louis’ shoulder. It’s the smile on his face though, that makes Louis’ eyes water and heart clench painfully in his chest.

He remembers how stupidly happy they were. They were just friends; a long way off the start of their relationship. But they’d always been close. Right from that moment on the X Factor stage when Simon said they were being put into a group for Judges’ Houses. They had been inseparable.

Slowly, over a _lot_ of time, the friendship grew into something more. It changed from something sweet and innocent to the point where the others threatened to douse them with cold water to relieve the tension in the room.

There had been a lot of staring and tense moments where Louis wasn’t sure if Harry was going to kiss him or not, and finally, somewhere in Australia during the Where We Are tour, Louis had been the one to take a chance.

A noise draws his attention away from the photos and Louis is surprised to see Zayn standing in the doorway at the end of the corridor. He looks as tired as Gemma did. How long has Zayn been here? Why did Harry call him? What the hell is going on that his friends are keeping secrets from him?

“I know you heard. He’s locked himself back in his office.” Zayn nudges his head towards the photos. “He did that last night. Left thumb is all black and blue from the hammer. I did tell him to ask Liam.”

“Why are you here, Zee?” Louis asks, curiosity getting the better of him though he knows it’s not the most important thing he needs to ask.

Zayn only shrugs in response.

Louis sighs. He walks past Zayn and heads over to the hidden door in the corner that he’s pointed to. Tentatively, he knocks. He puts his head against the wood and hears faint whimpering from the other side. He frowns in confusion before turning back to Zayn.

“Has he been like this all night?” Louis asks, but again, Zayn just shrugs. “Fine.” He raps his knuckles sharply against the door. “Harry?” He gives it a few seconds before knocking harder when Harry doesn’t respond. “Harry, come on. Please open the door. I want to talk to you.”

“Go away, Lou” is Harry’s response. A soft whine accompanies it.

“No, Harry. Sorry. Not gonna happen. I had Gemma at the door this morning harassing me. You need to let me in so we can sort this out.” He thumps his forehead against the door. “Please don’t make me beg in front of Zayn.”

“There isn’t anything to sort out. You made that clear enough last night,” Harry responds with a sigh. His voice hitches as he speaks.

“Come on, Haz. Let me in.” Again, after no response, he starts knocking hard against the door, using his foot rather than his fist when his knuckles start to ache. “I’m not leaving until you let me in so unless you want to replace the door when I’ve kicked a hole in it I suggest you open it.”

Louis hears shuffling behind the door and the slide of a lock. Trying the door handle, the door gives and swings open slowly to reveal Harry sat against the wall adjacent to where he is. He’s folded up with his knees to his chest and his arms folded across the top. His head is resting back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. Louis doesn’t take his eyes off him as he enters the room and closes the door behind him with a nod of his head to Zayn. Not once does Harry look up.

Giving himself a moment to think of what to say, Louis takes a long look at Harry. In all the time they’ve known each other, Harry has always managed to be the biggest thing in the room, the brightest star in the night sky and the warmest of suns. His smile always managed to light up a room and his laugh infectious.

However, Louis has never seem him so… distraught. Never ever has he seen him so sad, so broken. His face is gaunt and pale. His cheeks bear the marks of tears gone dry, and his eyes are puffy and swollen. He’s trembling where he sits on the floor; his whole body looks to be vibrating. Gone is the long coat from the night before. In its place is a jumper, sleeves stretched to cover his hands and damp around the collar, like Harry has been using it to wipe his face.

Louis can’t help himself when he says, “Oh Haz” and walks over the broken boy. He slides down the wall next to him. Enough space between them so not to crowd Harry but close enough that if Harry reaches out to him he won’t have to reach far. Louis stretches his legs out in front of him and rests his hands lightly on his thighs. He turns to face Harry and finds him already facing him. He’s rested his head on his arms and although he’s looking in Louis’ general direction, his eyes won’t focus on Louis’.

“Why are you here?” Harry asks him, words slurring together with how tired he must be.

“Honestly? I have no idea, H.” Harry nods in understanding and turns his head to stare vacantly at the opposite wall. Louis uses the time to look around the office.

It’s small; just big enough to fit in a couple of desks and chairs. The walls are bright white, like they’ve just been painted and the sunlight hasn’t faded the colour yet. The window recessed into the wall is huge. Louis can only imagine how hot it’s going to get sitting in front of that in the middle of the summer. Other than the desks there is no other furniture. No shelves. No books. Not even a pen on the desk top. But there’s a photo-frame on the windowsill.

He’s vaguely aware of Harry speaking from next to him but in a trance, Louis stands up and makes his way over, effortlessly dodging the corner of the desk just asking to be walked in to.

The gold frame glints in the sunshine coming through the window. It blinds Louis momentarily so by the time his vision has adjusted, Harry has jumped up next to him and snatched it out of his hands. Louis startles, not having heard Harry move and frowns when he sees just how tight his grip on the frame is. He’s got in pulled in against his chest. It reminds Louis of the twins when they’d scream “mine!” and refuse to relinquish their hold on whatever toy they didn’t want to share with him.

Louis sighs and holds his hand out in front of him. He wiggles his fingers when a second has past and Harry still hasn’t handed it over. With a groan, Harry places it into his hand and flees to the other side of the room. He slides down the wall and covers his face with his hands.

Louis turns the frame over and instantly feels tears well up in his eyes.

“Oh Haz,” he says again and moves to kneel in front of Harry. He places the frame gently on the floor, photo side facing them, and pulls Harry’s hands away from his face. He grasps them tightly in his own when Harry goes to pull away. Letting go of one, he grips Harry’s chin in his now free hand and lifts his face up to look at him. Louis quirks on eyebrow in question and waits for Harry to speak.

Heaving a sigh, Harry says, “I just wanted to be able to…look at that photo and remember…us. All of us.”

Grabbing the frame again, Louis brings it up in front of him, using Harry’s knees to rest it on. He tries to remember when the photo was taken but he struggles to sift through everything that has happened in the last eight years of his life. He can only remember most of the first year or so because of the YouTube videos and gifs he sees whenever the urge to browse Tumblr comes over him.

It’s yet another candid shot of the five of them. Not an official photo from the quality of it. It must have been taken on a phone. Louis can make out a video set behind them and deduces that it was when they were filming Kiss You.

It had been a long day on set. Changing outfits and shooting the same few frames over and over again. They always had fun, no matter where they were or what they were doing. None of them ever really complained, but ten hours on a video shoot is tiring and long and boring. All five of them were sat along a wall off to the side while people are moving cameras and lights around them. Liam and Harry are laughing, Zayn and Niall are talking to each other, but it’s himself he can’t take his eyes off. He’s staring at Harry. If it was a cartoon, he’d have been drawn with hearts for eyes.

Placing the photo back down on the floor next to them, he leans back and stands up, stretching his legs out where they’ve been hunched on the floor. Louis reaches down and takes one of Harry’s hands and pulls him up too.

“Now, this doesn’t mean I forgive you, not even remotely close, but you look like you need one and I’m helpless to resist a damsel-in-distress.” Louis feels relief when the corners of Harry’s lips tilt up into a smile. He tugs Harry to him and puts his arms around his waist for a hug. Harry’s arms come up and surround his shoulders.

Harry smells good. He feels good. And Louis knows he should still be angry at him, but he thinks he left any residual anger back in his kitchen with Gemma. Smiling to himself, he tucks his face against Harry’s neck and just enjoys the fact that he’s in the arms of someone who was once his most favourite person in the world.

Louis knows they’re not fixed. Not even slightly. They’re so far from being what they once were, but Louis doesn’t feel sad, or angry, or heartbroken. Right at this moment in time, he feels free.

He pulls Harry closer.

\--

A week later, and with a tentative agreement to at least try and be friends again, he gets a text from Harry, making sure that Louis is still coming to the grand opening of the restaurant that evening.

They hadn’t talked about anything important after the hug the week before, instead choosing to reminisce over stories from the days of the band, and completely ignoring anything that had happened since they had broken up. It was light-hearted with plenty of laughs and, when the sun had finally set, Louis had driven Harry to Gemma’s and left him with a shy smile and a kiss on the cheek.

Once he responds back with _wouldn’t miss it for the world x_ , Louis glances at the clock on the wall and deems it a reasonable time to pack up his things for the day. He still has to pick up his suit from the dry-cleaners and get ready. Niall and Gemma are meeting him and Liam at the flat for a quick drink before they go.

As the lift descends to the basement level car-park, he flicks through his emails to the invite for tonight. It’s basic. As generic an invite as you can get. A couple of balloons and a date and time. There’s no mention of the name of the restaurant and Louis can only hope that Harry had seen sense to change it. The last thing their tentative new relationship needed was ‘Larry’ rumours again.

He has never been ashamed of being gay, despite what Harry had thought when they had broken up, rather it’s only ever been his business. He never understood why other celebrities felt the need to announce it so it ended up splashed across every newspaper and every website. There was more going in the world rather than who was dating who. Keeping it locked up and away from prying eyes kept it simple.

Now, though, if someone asked him outright what his sexuality was, he’d happily tell them. After lying about his relationship with Harry for so long and how exhausting it was being forced to pretend to be someone he wasn’t, being honest would be a relief.

Still, having a restaurant named after him, having everyone know that, yes, he, Louis Tomlinson was in a relationship with his bandmate, is a big no-no. It would raise more questions than answers and he just isn’t up to that. After spending so long in solitude, Louis doesn’t think he’d be able to handle the attention.

It’s the one thing about being in the band he doesn’t miss; the relentless questions, the harassment, the bigotry and the nastiness that came with being in one of the biggest bands to ever come out of Britain.

After Zayn left, the bad started to outweigh the good.

It only takes him ten minutes to get ready once he gets back to the flat. Liam and Niall are already mixing drinks in the kitchen and Gemma is due to arrive half an hour before they need to leave.

Slipping into the pinstriped suit that Lottie had sent down from Doncaster for him, he slicks his hair up off his forehead and nods at his reflection. Smart, yes, Oscar-ready, maybe not, but it would have to do. They are due at the restaurant by 8pm and it’s pushing on quarter-past 7 now. He’d like a couple of pints before they have to go. There’s sure to be plenty of paps at the grand-opening and he knows he’ll need the liquid courage just to get from the car to the door.

“So what’s this place called then, lads? Harry has kept it quiet,” Louis asks, fixing his cufflinks as he walks into the kitchen.

When he looks back up, Liam and Niall are exchanging looks across the breakfast bar. Louis quirks his eyebrow. Suddenly it becomes clear why Harry hasn’t said anything and why it isn’t mentioned on the invite. “He didn’t change it, did he?”

“Well, you see,” Niall starts, but Liam cuts him off with, “No, he didn’t.” They both give him guilty looks and look away. Niall starts fiddling with the tea-towel that’s on the side and Liam is straightening his tie.

Louis sighs angrily. He rubs his hand across his forehead and only just stops himself from tugging at his newly-styled hair in anguish. Anger bubbles beneath the surface of his skin and he starts sweating in his suit. Stomping back to his bedroom for his phone, ready to call Harry and give him a piece of his mind, he stops when he sees he’s received a text since he’s been out the room.

Flicking through the menus, he opens up a new text from Harry. _Can’t wait for you to see this place .xx_

Just like that, with that one text message, the anger dissipates before it can take hold. Louis should really be pissed at Harry, and he is definitely going to be having words when he gets there, but all he feels is defeated. He can feel the quiet life he’s managed to grab hold of crumble around him.

He’s passing his phone from hand to hand and pacing the room when a knock on the door startles him. He looks up Gemma is leaning against the doorframe. She’s wearing a black cocktail dress that sparkles when she straightens up and has piled her hair on top of her head in a messy bun. A white shawl that matches her white shoes complete the outfit. Louis can feel a smile adorn his face at how amazing she looks.

“Wow, Gem, you look beautiful.” He walks over to her and kisses her cheek in greeting. Taking her hands, he pulls her into the room and she lets him spin her on the spot, dress billowing around her knees. When she’s stopped, she punches him in the stomach, laughing the whole time so he knows it’s affectionate. “I don’t know who’s going to get the most attention tonight; you or H.”

“Save your compliments for Harry, please. I lost the ability to blush a long time ago. Now, sit.” She pats the edge of the bed next to where she’s taken a seat and when he does, Gemma takes his phone out of his hand, placing it on the other side of her. “Please, don’t be mad at him about the name. He asked me my opinion and I told him not to change it, so if you’re going to be mad at anyone, be mad at me.”

Louis leans forward with his arms on his knees and groans. “Why, Gemma? I just wanted to come back to London and get on with my life. Now there’s going to be cameras shoved in our faces at every opportunity. The press are going to have a field-day with this. I can see the headlines now: ‘ _Larry is real! Fans were right all along_ ’. I can’t handle that. Do you want me to start drinking again?”

“Alright, drama queen, settle down. You don’t know it will be like that, but at the end of it, you’ll be able to be with whoever you want to be with and not have to hide it. I was trying to help. And anyway,” she looks quite smug, “I think having a building named after me would be sweet.”

“But tonight won’t be about that. It’ll be ‘Louis, what was it like banging your bandmate?’ The whole night will be a joke. I can’t go. Harry has worked hard on this. I can’t let this overshadow that. I won’t let it.”

“Don’t be stupid, Lou. Of course you need to go. Harry has done all of this for you. Forget about everyone else. You think he cares what everyone else is going to think? Look, I know my brother fucked up. To be honest, you both are as bad as each other, and even if you never get back together and remain friends for the rest of your lives, you’ll always have this to remind you.”

“Of what?” Louis practically leaps off the bed to put some space between them. His fists shake at his sides and even though he would never lay a hand on Gemma, he feels like punching someone. “Of that fact that I had my heart stomped on. That I was lied to for two years! That I nearly drank so much that I killed myself. Mum nearly lost a son; my sisters a brother, all because of Harry. I don’t even know if I _can_ be friends with him yet. We only started talking to each other last week. You think this will make being friends easy? Every move will be scrutinised. I won’t be able to be seen in public with him. You think I’ll be able to find someone who can take the fact that everyone will assume I’m sleeping with Harry behind their backs?”

No, there is absolutely no chance of him leaving this flat again. Maybe he can change his name, change his face so he no longer looks like himself. It’s the only thing he can think of to hide from the world.

As soon as everyone sees that sign, they’ll know. Not only will they know about the relationship, they’ll know about the breakdown afterwards, the drinking; they’ll link it all together and that will be it.

“Fine, you know what, don’t come tonight. See if I care.” Gemma stands up and walks towards the door. She stops when she gets to the threshold and turns back with a hand on the doorframe. The look on her face makes him deflate slightly but Louis can’t stop shaking. “But just think about how disappointed Harry will be when we get out the car, and you aren’t there.”

She disappears out of the doorway. He hears her call out to the others and then the front door close.

Louis drops onto his back on the bed and rubs his face. He can just imagine how excited Harry is. How he’ll be standing at the main entrance of the building, smile so wide, so bright, waiting for him to get out the car. Maybe he’ll rush forward to hug him; envelope Louis in his long arms; how good it would feel to be back in them. How proud Louis would be - how proud he is - of what Harry is doing. His smile would match Harry’s. Maybe the cameras would pick up on the love Louis knows he still feels for the younger man.

But how quickly that would change when Gemma, Niall and Liam step out of the car and the door closes and Louis doesn’t emerge as well. He can feel how the disappointment will radiate out of Harry. The cameras will turn on him and see the unshed tears in his eyes. The reporters will rip him apart, the photos will make front page the following morning and Louis would need to leave the country just to get away from the hate that will surely be aimed at him.

Everyone will know anyway, but they’ll think Louis was the one at fault for it ending. How Harry has dedicated his new business venture to his one true love who doesn’t return his affections.

And he does. Even at his lowest, Louis has always loved Harry. It’s why it hit him so hard when he found himself on his own. It’s why he turned to alcohol to numb himself to his feelings. Harry has always been it for him. And maybe this is Harry’s way of showing him that Louis has always been it for Harry too.

Maybe the evening will turn out to be all about the past; maybe everyone will know about how he got his heart stomped on. Maybe they will blame Louis, or Harry, or the pressure of being young and in the spotlight. He won’t find out though unless he actually takes a stand and puts himself out there.

Groaning at himself for his stupidity; for his cowardice, Louis climbs from the bed and rushes out of the flat.

\--

One by one the cars empty in front of the building so it takes ages for Louis’ taxi to get to the door and when it does he wishes he had just come with the others rather than by himself.

Even through the doors of the vehicle, the noise is immense. The screams and shouts are so loud his ears are already ringing from it. He can see people jostling each other to get to the front of the barriers that are on either side of the entrance and the security staff are struggling to hold people back.

Right by the kerb are the reporters, fighting each other to get pictures of people emerging from vehicle. The camera flashes are so bright it makes it feel like daytime and as he opens the door, he shields his eyes so they can adjust.

Getting out of the taxi and closing the door behind him, Louis stops right at the edge of the pavement and looks up.

There it is. _Louis’_ in all its illuminated glory. He can hear people shouting questions at him, though later on if you asked him he wouldn’t be able to tell you what they said, and the fans screaming ‘Larry’ but he’s too focused on that bloody sign. It’s taunting him above the door, blinking at him in blue and green, and like a switch, he frowns and clenches his fists and rushes past the greeter at the door.

Stomping down the corridor, which is still the home of all those photographs, although a little tidier, and through the crowds of people littering the place, some calling out a greeting and others staring at him in surprise, Louis makes his way into the main room and looks around. Reaching up onto his tip-toes he surveys the room and upon seeing no one he actually knows, he drops back down onto his feet and steps further in.

It’s only when he’s inadvertently made his way into the centre of the room does the atmosphere of the place change.

Slowly, one at a time, everyone quietens until its deathly silent. Louis focuses his attention back on what is happening around him and realises that the people around him have cleared out a space in which he is stood right in the middle. He puts his hands on his hips and glares at them. They’re all staring at him.

Of course they know who he is. Of course he wouldn’t be able to step into this building that is named after him and be able to stay anonymous.

The whispering starts then. A hum at first until it’s a loud drone that sounds like a billion angry bees have taken up residence. Louis can feel it like an itch under his skin and he feels his face start to flush under all the attention.

He looks around and sees the stares, the accusations, the surprise and shock; people not even trying to hide the fact they’re talking about him. About _them_.

Clearing his throat, he mumbles an ‘excuse me’ into the space and pushes his way through the people stood between him and the kitchen, not even bothering to apologise at the drinks he knocks out of people’s hands.

Not stopping, Louis forces the fire exit open and finds himself in an alleyway at the back of the building. He takes a couple of deep breaths and lifts his head to the sky.

“I thought you weren’t coming.”

Louis turns in surprise at the intrusion to find Harry stood in the doorway he’s just walked through.

He’s leaning up against the frame, arms folded across his chest. And he doesn’t look happy. In fact, the red rims around his eyes imply the exact opposite.

Louis feels like an idiot, a prized prat, a complete cock. Even at his angriest, it was never his intentions to hurt Harry. Not when he’d discovered that Harry had left. Not when he found out about his ‘engagement’ in the newspaper. Not even when he found out that was all a farce. Hurting Harry has never occurred to him.

“I wasn’t. Not when I found out that you’d kept the name. Not at first anyway.”

Harry looks down at his feet and clears his throat. He unfolds one arm and runs it through his hair, pushing it to one side and tilting his head in confusion.

“Then why are you here, Louis? If you’re here to start an argument, it can wait until tomorrow. I have party to host that I really don’t have the energy for.” Harry pushes off the frame and takes the step down into the alley with his hands in his trouser pockets. He’s wearing a grey suit with a deep purple shirt, open to his stupid moth tattoo.

Harry looks like a dream. A dream Louis once had and let slip through his fingers when he’d opened his eyes the following morning. Arousal sparks in the base of his spine but Louis pushes it away. Now is not the time. Not at all. He came here mad at Harry and they haven’t been together for years now. Maybe Harry doesn’t even feel that way about him.

 _Of course he does, you dick. He’s done all this for you_ , Louis’ subconscious tells him, but he shakes it away.

“No, I haven’t. What’s done is done. But I realised tonight I made a massive mistake. Well, two massive mistakes really.” Louis stands on the step next to Harry so they are the same height. He looks right into Harry’s shining, green eyes as he says, “One of them was letting you believe I wasn’t coming tonight. But the first one was nearly three years when I didn’t fight for you. And I should’ve. I know us breaking up wasn’t all on you. I should’ve fought for us to be out. But I didn’t. I believed it would be easier for us to stay a secret, but you shouldn’t be anyone’s secret Harry.”

Harry stares at him, eyes twinkling in the light spilling through the open door behind them. Louis reaches a hand up to run the back of it over his cheek, and both of them smile when Harry ducks his head away shyly. Chuckling quietly at the blush on Harry’s cheeks, Louis grips his chin and turns Harry’s face back towards him.

“I know a lot has happened in the last few years. I know we’ve both made mistakes, but I don’t think they’re irreparable?” Louis asks, waiting for Harry to shake his head before saying, “And I think now there isn’t the pressure of being in a band we could make it work…”

Before he can finish the grand speech he’s been working up to, a rumble is heard in the distance. They both look up to the sky when light flashes across it and another rumble sounds even closer. “Oh shit. We might need to take this inside.” Louis makes to grab Harry’s hand but instead of going into the building, Harry drags him off the step and deeper into the alley.

Beyond the reach of the light from the door, Louis can just make out Harry looking up at the night sky, face alight with wonder. Another flash of lightening lights up his face and Louis can feel the love he’s worked so hard to tamper down reignite in his veins at how beautiful Harry looks in this moment.

He doesn’t look sad anymore, or worried. There aren’t any tear tracks on his cheeks. It makes Louis move to stand in front of the younger man. Reaching up with his hands, he puts one on Harry’s shoulder and cups Harry’s cheek with the other, drawing his attention from the sky and back to him. Harry nuzzles into his hand and smiles. It would be so easy to reach up and kiss Harry. And Harry would let him, he knows.

And it’s like they’re on the same wavelength, even after almost three years of time and space to ruin the bond they always had, as Harry leans down and Louis stretches up. Just as their lips meet with the softest of touches the loudest rumble yet sounds and with it, the heavens open and the rain starts.

They jerk apart in shock and start laughing at how quickly they both get soaked. Harry’s hair is plastered to his head and his suit has gone black. Louis knows he doesn’t look any better.

Harry steps away, booming laugh filling up the empty alley.

“Come on, let’s go in,” Louis says, reaching for him only for Harry to dance out of his grasp.

“Nope. Let’s stay right here.” Harry stretches his arms out and spins on the spot, head tilted up to the sky, rain washing over him. He looks so happy and Louis can’t remember a time he looked this peaceful with life. Harry was always the one who could handle the crowds and the screams and the demands, but he never looked this free. “Enjoy the rain, Lou. Feel it on your skin.”

Louis looks at him incredulously, laughter bubbling up inside him, although he’ll fake being annoyed for as long as possible. “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you want to stop and feel the rain? You’re nuts, Harry Styles.”

Harry turns and winks at him before resuming his worshiping of a thunderstorm in a dank London alley when he’s supposed to be hosting one of the biggest nights of his life.

One thing that has always surprised Louis is Harry’s ability to appreciate even the smallest of moments, and not giving anymore thought to how ruined his suit is going to be, or how much of a press nightmare this whole night is going to create, Louis leaps into the space in front of Harry, takes his arms and spins with him.

\--

_One year later…_

Louis has been staring at the same goddamn piece of paper for an hour and he honestly can’t remember what any of it says. Something about a track listing for what the press have dubbed ‘1D 2.0’ when they caught wind of Louis signing a boyband the previous summer. Their debut album was spectacular, getting #1 in 68 countries around the world, but as much as he believes in his trio of lads, he’s still feeling the pressure of making sure it’s what the boys want and not what they think they need to produce, while needing to make sure that he doesn’t disappoint the band’s fans. And although this album isn’t due for release for at least another six months, he needs to figure out at least a rough idea of what will be going on the album.

Sure, he has a team of people to do that. Producers and songwriters; admin staff and people who have done all this before. But he felt more like a big brother to the lads than their boss so Louis was making sure that even while they were working, they were happy and having fun doing it. Breaks were mandatory and they were kept in the studio no later than 8pm when they were recording the first album. No one knew about their whereabouts unless it was a planned event. Liam told him he was being a bit too cautious with them, but Louis remembers how exhausted he was during their heyday, jumping from stage to studio to bus back to stage, trying to avoid hundreds of fans whilst doing it.

Giving up on the track listing for now and dropping the paper on the table in front of him, Louis takes his glasses off and groans as he rubs at his sore eyes. It’s been a long day. Actually, no, it’s been a long year.

Ever since he and Harry got back together, they haven’t stopped. Granted it wasn’t the same sort of pressure they were under when they were in the band. Their movements aren’t planned. But Harry is putting his all into running the restaurant, often staying until closing and Louis has been equally as devoted to his label. It hasn’t been all rosy though.

In the days and weeks following Harry’s opening night, the media pressed and hounded until they had agreed to do one exclusive interview with a person of their choice just to get a sense of ownership back in their lives. Of course they chose James Corden.

The interview was easy, and felt more like they were sitting at a table in a pub rather than talking to a bunch of cameras about something that was very personal to them. The three other lads had stood in the wings for moral support, and when finally James asked if they were officially back together (although there had been plenty of photos of Louis leaving Harry’s house or Harry picking him up from his office), and Harry had smirked at Louis before saying ‘yes’, Niall came flying out at them before diving onto the sofa for a group hug, Zayn and Liam not far behind.

After that the interview dissolved into chaos with five lads trying to talk over each other and the studio audience howling with laughter. Honestly, what did people expect?

It’s only in the last few weeks that things have settled down again. Maybe not to the level of quiet it once was but Louis is more than capable of walking to the shops without being mobbed. The only time it’s a media circus is when he’s out with Harry, but as they don’t make a habit of it, preferring to keep their relationship as private as possible, it’s manageable.

Sighing again, Louis picks his glasses back up before dropping them back down. He really needs to finish this listing before they go to bed, but he’s being seeing double for the last ten minutes. He forcefully pushes the papers away and drops his head onto his arms. Within moments he feels a pair of hands rubbing his shoulders and a soft voice whispers “had enough babe?”

With a yawn he pushes himself back into a seated position and looks up at Harry behind him. From upside-down Louis can still make out the concern on his face and tries to smile but his face is too tired to keep it up for long.

“Had enough, yes. Finished? No. I need to do this tonight. I won’t have time tomorrow.” Louis runs his hand over his face, trying to rub away the weariness.

Harry squeezes his shoulders before leaning over and putting his chin on one. Cheek-to-cheek with the love of his life, encased in the arms that have surrounded him, Louis can feel the warmth seeping into his body and it makes him more determined to finish his work so they can go and snuggle up in bed, Louis on his back and Harry using him as a pillow.

“Then you’ll make time. Come on, Lou, come to bed. Don’t forget it the one-year anniversary of the restaurant tomorrow.”

Turning in his seat so he can see Harry’s face, Louis presses a kiss onto his mouth. The smile that lights up Harry’s face is enough to wash away the tiredness that’s settled in Louis limbs. _Now who’s the one with the heart eyes_ , Louis thinks to himself smugly.

He still can’t believe that they’re back together. After everything that had happened he thought they wouldn’t fit. Like jigsaw pieces from the same puzzle but with bruised and broken edges. Designed to be next to each other but never quite clicking into place. He’s never been so happy to be proved wrong when instead of having to learn each other again, what makes them happy, or sad, or angry, how Harry gets snappy when he’s hungry or Louis forgets to turn the lights off when he leaves a room, it was like the last few years hadn’t happened.

They were older, but they were wiser too. They knew to talk to each other when one or the other wasn’t happy with something, and they learned to make time for themselves; taking weekends off to visit their families up north or just disappearing for a few days when the attention from outside became too much. ‘A bump in the road’ Harry calls it whenever talk turns to their time apart.

No one was surprised when after only six months together, they moved back in with each other, a house with both of their names on this time. Likewise, Zayn wasn’t surprised when Harry let slip that he was planning a surprise for Louis at the event the following evening, nor was Liam when Louis had said he’d found a ring to propose to Harry with on their anniversary. Their friends were always rolling their eyes fondly at how in sync they were.

Standing up from the table, ignoring the fact that he really, _really_ needs to do that track listing, Louis takes Harry’s hand in his and brings his knuckles to his mouth.

Placing a delicate kiss on the back of Harry’s hand, Louis says, “As if I could forget about you.”

THE END

_I remember the day you told me you were leaving_

_I remember the make up running down your face_

_And the dreams you left behind you didn’t need them_

_Like every single wish we ever made_

_I wish that I could wake up with amnesia_

_And forget about the stupid little things_

_Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you_

_And the memories I never can escape_

_‘cause I’m not fine at all_

  * ‘Amnesia’ by 5 Seconds of Summer



**Author's Note:**

> I have to say this has been the most fun I've ever had and the most stressed I've ever been in a six-month period. 
> 
> When I decided to do this I had a beginning of a story written and the dream of being able to write something more than 20k words. My only other fic on here is 12k and I thought that was a lot when I finished it. This has been both a challenge and a dream come true for me.
> 
> I only hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/cat331x13).


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